


The seeds

by mikeellee



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Betaed, Body Horror, Canada, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, F/M, Gen, Good and Evil, Horror, How Do I Tag, Inspired by H. P. Lovecraft, Lovecraftian, M/M, Magic, No Racism, Outer Space, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Horror, Revenge, Supernatural Elements, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Witches, burning woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 62,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeellee/pseuds/mikeellee
Summary: Summary: Brasco has red in their flags, in their flowers and now in the entire city. When they open their hearts and mind to prejudice and racism it wakes a curse and something else...can the curse be break? Or is everyone doomed?
Relationships: Candy Magalhães/Isaac Summers, Isaac Summers/Adam
Comments: 48
Kudos: 15





	1. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you like my work please follow me on twitter
> 
> https://mobile.twitter.com/home

N/A: So let's try again.

  
  


  
  


N/A: So let's try again.

The city of Brasco is located in a state also named Brasco. It shares a border with Quebec, except unlike its neighbour, Brasco is much smaller and would be forgettable in terms of tourism if not for a curious folktale spread by everyone in Canadian Tourism to this day. Brasco used to be a French colony. However, the government of that colony lost the land in a game of poker. 

French Colonel Antonio Barbett was the unlucky man in charge of Brasco, which was a reward for his great service to the French Empire. He sadly bet on the wrong cards against Sir William Carter, who didn't just win the land but notoriety too. This information sparks people's curiosity and makes people want to visit this land. If nothing else, it’s close to Quebec.

The city has one solitary icy mountain that resembles the mountain cliché. Many tourists like to take photos of the mountain or selfies with it. The main tourist attraction in Brasco is the Brasco Forest, which is completely untouched by human hands, as if God had crafted this forest today. 

The lakes freeze in the harsh winters.Of course, it has the most famous city all time: Brasco City. Brasco City is covered in green forest. “The green life of Brasco attracts the citizens of big cities, as they have the idea of a small city being perfect and warm to everyone.” Brasco's sky is always clear and the most vibrant blue anyone can hope for.

It is possible to see all the stars at night, which brings many astronomers to Brasco. And sure enough, Brasco has the colour red to attract people as well. If one does not like to gaze to the stars, there are always the roses as red as one can imagine in Brasco.

Naturally, they are represented in their national flag: red,blue and green. Many people who visit the city say how red is their new favourite colour. This happens so often that, once a year, there's a red festival. This festival attracts attention from many tourists. Brasco's tourism is still lower in popularity than Quebec's but it's catching up.

"The townsfolk sure do love red!" One of the tourists mentioned once home, with big smiles and fond memories. "Red is so vivid in that city. We should visit again," is the common remark about Brasco.

Red is so vivid in that city because no one, outside this loving community who adores red with all their hearts, can possibly know their adoration goes deeper. The citizens of Brasco believe in their pious ways, and only they can see how the city was filthy with the crimson of the impure.

No one that is not from Brasco needs to know how far Mayor Titus Summers goes to protect the city. He conducts a trial among his peers to judge a witch who has to pay for her crimes against the city, and the world. Titus Summers wears an unblemished white robe. His face is clean of any beard, with no indication he ever had one. His body is lean like his long hair. It is dirty blond, and he has deep blue eyes. However, his blue eyes look down on the citizens of Brasco and at the center figure of the crowd gathered around him. His eyes lack any warmth as the man looks down in his scaffold, located in the middle of the city. The sky is clear. All it has are two bright stars located above the crowd, as if it were two eyes peering curiously at the citizen. Two pairs of eyes judge the town and no one seems to notice as their eyes are focused on their leader.

"You, the witch of the woods, are hereby accused of poisoning good people and condemning the souls of innocents," Titus's voice booms. All the good citizens of this good city are listening. His finger points to the woman who is wearing black. "You, witch, shall pay for your crimes with fire," he concludes. The townsfolk start to light their torches and walk closer to the woman.

The woman has her hands and feet tied up. Her dark eyes are gazing upon Titus. "Still blame me for Beatrice's death?" she asked, with a joking lilt to her voice, as if it is something to joke about.

Titus doesn't lose his composure as he responds. "Beatrice was a good woman until you corrupted her. Do you deny that?" The woman does not reply for a moment, until she breaks out into a burst of laughter.

"I'm as guilty as you are. I'm as much of a monster as you're the hero. If you think burning me will bring Beatrice back, be aware that you'll face the consequences. Nothing more fitting. If I die, then you´ll know despair as I'm not feeling right now," the woman responds, smiling in a broken way. "Blame the witch and now the witch will take credit for her work. A curse for this small and lovely city." Her eyes are still pitch black and her skin is too pale (almost decaying) and her teeth are bright yellow now. "You shall love red. Then crimson will paint this city at the expense of the next generation." She finishes, smiling sardonically at Titus who ordered for her to be burned.

No one dares to deny such a request. The Woman doesn't scream as the flames engulf her body in less than a minute, and no one dares to take their eyes off as the fire completely vanishes any trace of that woman. Concerned eyes turn to Titus in guidance. (Their heads still looking up at Titus waiting, hoping and believing.)

"The Witch is dead. We're free." Titus begins. "Pay no mind for the witch's words, fumble words in hope to deceive our hearts. The witch is dead, and we shall never see her again. The witch is dead and we'll be saved from her and our children." He concludes with energy in his voice and the others start to show their beliefs.

"The Witch is dead!"

"The Witch is dead!"

The cheer continues as Titus looks below his own scaffold at his own people. He feels relief and mutters to himself, "I've saved the city for you, Beatrice, but couldn't save you." Without watchful eyes, all the famous Brasco's roses wither and die.

__________________________________________________________________

The city of Brasco is the same to the tourists, but Mayor Summers says differently because of what he heard from Sheriff Duncan. A man with a growing bear, sunglasses, a medium height -not too tall nor too short- and his milk chocolate brown hair perfectly brushed makes his figure well known among this small city. While Mayor Summers is far from different, Mayor Summers´s main feature is his electric blue eyes. It almost gives the impression that his blue eyes are the only ones that matter. 

The interior of the office of the mayor is covered with blue. A baby shade covers the office and has nothing outstanding in such an office of such an important person, except one picture frame covered in crimson hues with one photo of one woman with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Mayor Summers, we couldn't locate the kids nor have any idea..." the man is sweating cold and is cleaning his forehead as he continues. "My men are searching and, Mayor Summers, we don't know what to say to the townsfolk," he concludes, waiting, hoping, and believing. His eyes gaze at the Mayor as the said man is showing no emotion or conflict in his body or soul.

Titus Summers nods his head, asserting the point of this case, and speaks in a more soothing tone similar to a father would to a child who confessed a misdeed. Only Mayor Summers has such calming effects in such moments. "The citizens of this city have a ratio of 3 children, and lately, all the firstborn leave their homes. The fine police can testify it is not a case of a serial killer, because no serial killer could have killed around 80% of the firstborns in less than two days,” he starts, and the Sheriff nods earlier.

Titus’ eyes focus on the photo for a moment, and he continues. "Then let's speak to the people how their kids leave their homes for the misguided dream of being famous, how many rockstars' bio starts with the deceptive sentence, ''I left my home with only 20 dollars in my pocket,” and all the teens, bored out their lives, decided to leave," he concludes, and the Sheriff accepts it immediately.

"But...80% of the kids leave so quickly?" the Sheriff asks and shakes his doubt away as he asks again, "And what we shall do with the middle children? And the third children?" It’s a question that only Mayor Summers can answer.

"Every younger kid idolizes their older brother." His eyes have a fond look at the photo for a moment and even trace his finger, protected by a glove, to the image of the blonde girl. "They are prone to doing stupid things to impress their brothers, so we shall prove to the remain children how stupid it is to leave. Let's put an invisible wall around the city. Why leave to be a rockstar when they can be one here?"

And he continues. "I'm about to suggest something I do not truly want nor the good townsfolk, but it's a good strategy to keep the remaining children from leaving. Let's open our gates for others, bring more music, and all the dangerous stories will make the remaining kids afraid and the ones who escaped…” he pauses and looks at the Sheriff, who is waiting in anticipation. "Between us, do you think they come back walking or in a bag?"

"… I don't know, if you live a good life to follow a flimsy dream, maybe it's better to not come back." He confessed something else. "Look, do you think it was the curse?"

"Don't be naive, Sheriff Duncan. The Witch is dead. All we have here are teenagers being stupid, nothing out of ordinary!" Titus resumes his work- diligent as should always be- and Titus can never see the grin on Duncan’s face, nor will it ever matter. After all, the witch is dead. The city is saved now.

It's easier to believe in that, until the panel of missing kids is covered completely, and there are more posters of missing kids. Soon, the number of kids gets scary enough to allow Titus’ idea to go smoothly. Let's open the gates.

Suddenly, the number of anemone increases sporadically to city to the point it is impossible to not see the flowers, crimson as they should be, but blossoming in places they really shouldn't, sometimes next to the missing kids’ posters.

  
  
  


Maria Magalhães is a woman born in the slumber called Rocinha and is the third child in a family of 5, who all take different paths in life. The first child becomes a pop-singer sensation, the second is a soccer player, and Maria is still here working as a manicure in a beauty salon in Rio de Janeiro, Copacabana.

Her brothers are maybe blinded by success, or maybe they're ashamed, as now they can afford better things, and Maria Magalhães can hardly spend money in boutique shops on Leblon or Ipanema, so maybe it's easier to pretend she's not related to them now.

The money she makes is enough to pay the bills, but she hardly will have the same lifestyle as her brothers. In reality, Maria has copper-coloured skin (a gift from her father), blonde hair (coloured recently, but her eyebrows have a reddish tone so Maria is a natural red hair), and has a buxom physiognomy.

"Hey, Maria, do you still want to leave Brasil?" one of the staff members asked Maria as they are closing the beauty saloon, thanking God that Friday is coming. The TV is still on, airing the famous show THE Voice Brazil (Maria wonders why they use the English name if the show is set in Brasil itself), and a singer starts singing.

Porque voce pegou meu coração e jogou fora!

Então eu refiz meus votos e aprendi a deixa para lá.

Let it Go!

The singer has a melodic voice and is one of the most famous pop singers of all time, to the point some international singers are present in the hopes to cash in with a latina's success. Maria is holding the remote and is looking at the singer until the song is over. Standing ovation, and the singer starts thanking her important people. In her words, she's thanking her boyfriend, her agent, her brother, God, and of course, her fans. Maria shuts down the TV without looking at the screen.  _ Bom, ela está vivendo a vida dela e eu a minha. _

"Yes, e por que estamos conversando em ingles?" Maria asks, a bit confused, as her mother was the one to put in her mind that every Brazilian should hold their language, Portuguese, with honour, but that's not the case here.

"Oh, it is because I got into that new English course, and guess what? They are offering a trip to Brasco!" Seeing as Maria has no idea what Brasco is, the friend elaborated a bit more. "It is a city in Canada near Quebec, so it is more like a contest. You put your name in the ticket, sign up for the classes, and boom, trip to Brasco!"

Maria rolls her eyes hard. "Or boom, you have new bills to pay each month!"

"Not, the first month is free and you know, this trip to Brasco is covered with food and housing!"

Maria wants to say no and continue to do her chores and go home, but as her friend insisted so much, she ended up agreeing. Only for a month and nothing else.

____________________________________________________________________

Maria enters an English course named “English Now” and sees a variety of people in the school. For a brief moment, unpleasant memories of her childhood floated her mind. Maria does not like to dwell on the past, and shaking her head is enough to strengthen her conviction. 

Maria looks at the others wanting to go to Canada and holds her ticket for a moment (no one seems to really mind her presence, and there's a certain comfort and discomfort in knowing how easily forgettable Maria can be) and she tries to visualize Canada (what she knows is what the movies show).

“Ok, um mes de graça e nada mais.” She holds the ticket for a moment, visualizing Canada one last time until she hands the ticket to the designated person. Off she goes, not expecting anything, yet when the month is over, they announce the winner.

“Maria Magalhães, you'll go to Brasco!” Eyes start to look at her, and Maria feels uneasy with this trip, but who would give up a chance to go to Canada for free? 

____________________________________________________________________________________

Brasco is just like those movies that show the nicest image of Canada, the typical charming small city. Maria can't really relate to this or to how everyone looks so expensive and in such a different environment than herself, but Maria does not want to dwell on the past memories or on the fancy outfits they may be wearing. She's Maria. She knows who she is and is not ashamed.

A woman named Sophie ClearWater is too familiar, in fact too familiar, to the point Maria was staring at her hard enough to jog her memory and to get Sophie's attention, who sighs and nods. 

“Yes, I'm her. You got it right,” she says, taking her sunglasses (it was nighttime) out and revealing her brown azzure eyes (her skin is covered with a fake tan, and by the looks of it, Sophie is not happy by the aesthetic treatment). Her body is covered with a white coat and her hair's colour is raven with a few lockets of hair free from her messy bun.

Maria looks at her sides to see if she can get a clue about what she's talking about. “Oh, right, you're her. Cool. That's amazing. I noticed right away,” she lies and gives ropes to see if the woman can give more information.

“Yes, I'm Sophie Dawson, and I'm that actress,” she replies as if wanting Maria to ask for an autograph. 

Maria still can't recognize her, until it comes like a snap in her mind. “ _ Oh _ , you're the actress that set the director's car on fire!”

Sophie is bemused by this, but she likes any type of  reconnaissance and has a proud and mischievous smile on her face. “Well, I also did the ‘One Night, One Nightmare,’ but yes. I sent the motherfucker's car on fire.”

“Why?”

“You're a woman so I can tell you the real reason. Did you watch that movie ‘One Night, One Nightmare’?” 

Maria nods and says she remembers a few parts of that movie but she's not a fan of horror. 

“There's a scene where my character is hit with bullets to increase the motivation of the hero, and I retaliated by setting the motherfucker's car on fire because the shot was very real.” She offers a strained smile as her hand absently goes to her belly. “It hurt, but, oh, that scene is still talked about, still gains memes, and still gives me money, but it gives fame and status for a man who thought shooting at me is the best thing.”

Maria can't say anything else as a queue is formed, and they are about to finally meet the mayor of the city.

  
  


“Why are you being all chummy with me?” Maria asked, unsure as Sophie stops talking about this infamous scene.This must be a question Sophie wasn't expecting, as she stops to see Maria crossing her arms (Maria does not want pity or be dragged into a new conflict).

“Look around, Maria.” Sophie did just that to prove her point that has yet to be disclosed. “There's only us here. Why shouldn't we be friends or get along? We're in a new country, and I'm not in California anymore,” she concludes, looking at the abundance of red that represents Brasco.

Maria keeps staring, as if waiting for something else to be said. 

Finally, after a sigh, Sophie concludes again, “Also, I never saw real red hair before. Mom used to say real red hair is rare as a unicorn!”

And now Maria rolls her eyes and speaks, freeing her arms. “One, don't call me a unicorn. I don't like those creatures.” Maria involuntary shivers, remembering the old cartoon classics she watched when she was a child. She truly hates unicorns and hopes to never see one (no more cartoons or movies with them, please!) and continues, “Don't touch my hair, okay?” Sophie nods, and that's enough to break the ice.

“You may be surprised, but I'm not a real blonde,” Sophie stated in a tone akin to mysterious.

“I know. You're a brunette.”

“How did you know?!”

“Oh… I have magic powers!”

__________________________________________________________________________________

  
  


Brasco is as lovely as the images in the brochure promised, yet all Maria sees is red, crimson, vermillion and scarlet. There's so many anemone with one colour, red, in all the city, and it is growing. A lovely flower for sure, but Maria is a bit taken back by how red is so strong in this city.

Jacques Calder is the right hand of Titus Summers. A man who is the total opposite of Titus in looks, Jacks has long light chestnut brown hair, a goatee, his body is too beefy (or maybe the heavy coach gives this impression), and his voice is laced with a french accent mixed with English.

Everyone is in the city hall as the new welcomers are getting instructions about life in Brasco, so many old eyes, eyes from old generations of people of Brasco so obviously staring at them. Maria gulps as her bad memories are blocking her view for a moment. Meanwhile, Sophie is relishing the attention and does not mind blowing kisses as the old townsfolk continue to judge.

“Welcome to Brasco. Your new life waits for you,” Titus promised as accomodations were provided. Food is also taken care of, and for those who don't speak English very well, there are courses to help. Jacques's eyes (dark by the distance, maybe it is dark eyes) follow Maria in the whole process.

It's all very helpful, yet Maria feels like a rat trapped in a mousetrap. One week here, and the feeling increases as sometimes, the street gets deserted, as if she's completely alone or completely vulnerable.

“Maria?” Jacques approaches her after a week. “Only you have this name,” Jacques jokes, and his chuckles resemble the boehemia of the men in Rio de Janeiro and string her heart a bit.

One coffee date becomes regular until they become a thing. “Are you liking Brasco?” he often asks.

Maria smiles more easily, now having a way to ignore the eyes. “Yes, I'm now liking this city.”

A few times later, Sophie and Titus are getting along nicely, and Sophie does not mind the eyes on her. She adores and when Titus asks her hand in marriage, Sophie has no way to refuse (she has so much attention).

“Yes, of course,” Sophie says as the eyes are on her. As she looks at the eyes of Titus's favorite person, his deceased sister, she has blue eyes just like Sophie and Titus. And slowly, the man puts his hand on the woman's belly. “You have no idea how happy you made me.”

Meanwhile, Maria is sharing something that is making Jacques drop on his knee and pop a very important question. “Maria, do you want to marry me?” This question is made by everyone, more eyes on Maria, and her skin crawls for some reason as her hand travels to her belly for a moment.

She thinks back at the bohemia of her past husband in Rio. She gazes to where her wedding ring used to be and speaks to Jacques. “I was married once, when I was very young and knew my husband for more than 6 months. It wasn't a happy marriage nor a happy divorce.” Those words shock the viewers and Jacques. “And I'm a modern woman. I don't need to marry to raise my daughter,” she concludes.

Jacques is not happy at this. No one is. The man takes her hand, clamping her smaller ones as he tries again. “You're carrying my son, my child. This is irregular, I know,” there's nothing charming in his tone, “but, could you consider making Brasco your home, please?”

More eyes. More, more, and more.

Maria has no real desire to return to Brazil even more as her famous sister is doing a big show for all Brazil and the Brazilians are only speaking about this fact. “Very well. I can make Brasco my home.”

Maria decides to not look at the mural full of missing posters of kids, first borns and second borns of this city. Crimson anemone flourish among the police station and all the land is covered with this crimson flower. A sense of sorrow is well hidden, unlike the flowers.

7 years passed in the Brasco city, and it's reputation grew in Canada and in the Tourism field as the Red festival is slowly but surely gaining international fame. In the central park of the city, Nightingale Vale, a nice and very palatial perfect to walk with pets (as many dog owners are passing down), there's a smaller circle of kids playing old games (4 kids and tons of adults gazing with hawk eyes) and one blonde woman using a bun and nervously looking at her watch minute by minute. Sophie Summers is looking. Hoping and wishing as her father often taught.  _ Believe, Sophie, if you believe hard enough, God will grant your wish. _

“Mom?” A boy with blond hair and blue eyes as his mother is looking at the smaller group of kids with curiosity and boredom in his eyes. He sees more adults than adults in his young life, and that's normal as far as he's concerned.

“Yes, Isaac?” Sophie answers, still gazing at the watch, not giving attention to Isaac until now. 

The little boy's eyes focus on the northwest of the park. “Dad won't come, you know this, but Maria will. It’s going to be fine, mom, that you can believe.” Isaac looks at the entrance as his mother stops looking at the watch.

“But...Your father promised…”

“Father promises a lot.”

Meanwhile, one giggling girl with a tutu skirt completely pink and a tiara and a fake wand is looking at the sea of people as she's holding her mother's hand. The girl is light brown skin, has pigtail as hair style, and reddish hair as her mother.

Maria sighs tiredly as the Red festival is gaining more and more notoriety. Now, the city is flocked with tourists taking pictures, being noisy and enamoured with a charming little city as Brasco, and of course, making it impossible to go to the Nightingale vale. “Candy, I can't even see the entrance of the park. How can we meet Sophie and Isaac?” she asked, bemused.

Candy puffs her chest and has a big smile on her face, meaning it’s her time to shine. “Mommy, I know the way. Follow me!” Candy runs with her mother's hand still holding on to her tiny one as she navigates the sea of people, and in less than a minute, finds Isaac and Sophie.

Sophie waves at them, and Maria smiles, looking proud at her daughter for such ‘’magical ‘’ feature. “Once again, Candy found the way,” Maria jokes, and the two women catch up. Maria has the decency of pretending to be surprised that Titus, once again, won't be here with his wife and son.

Isaac looks at Candy who, aside from using a misshapen outfit of a princess or fairy or maybe both, looks as any normal boy would. “Still cucko with fairies?” Candy shows her tongue to him, and the boy rolls his eyes at this. “Why? Fairies are lame...super lame.”

“No, fairies are magical and cool…” Candy crosses her arms and uses her fake wand to prove her point, and this makes Isaac smile widely as he comes closer to his friend and makes one final question.

“Do you think Brasco is magic?” Candy doesn't wait long to answer as she nods and uses her wand to prove her point again, flicking and casting some words that mean nothing but everything to Candy. 

“Sekel?” Candy asks for a moment, and this lands. The boy beams with a glee in his question. He comes near the girl and, without skipping a beat, speaks the great answer with all pomp a 7 years old boy can muster.

“Good, because magic is alive and roaming around the corners of this city. The burned lady told me, and the city will be full red soon.” Isaac smirks, and Candy rolls her eyes dismissively as Isaac plays a prank on her and clicks on her wand, making said toy glow in different lights. As the kids and adults talk, no one pays attention anymore to the mural of missing kids, no, but everyone notices the anemones. So crimson, so scarlet, and so pretty, unlike the yellow papers of the missing kids that are slowly being taken down by the wind, and more and more flowers are growing in this city.

In the police station, a woman weeps inconsolably as she retells the same sad song that all policemen often hears, a constant in their lives that privately is treated as a dark and macabre joke (“Don't marry and your kid won't runaway”) and of course, offer a friendly shoulder and ear to the poor woman. She made the same question they all do. “Where's my son?” And the answer is often linked to “pretty outsiders” who stole the good kids from the mothers of Brasco.

Pretty outsiders is a name laced with healthy doses of xenophobic feeling and contempt for the ungrateful youth, a harlot of outside seduced a poor 16 years old and left a mother sonless. “Then,” the woman speaks once the sobs are a bit under control but her eyes still show the forlorn in her watery eyes, “why is my garden covered with anemone? Why is this city covered with those crimson flowers?” She concludes, “Where's my son?”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> N/A: Not sure if all Wiccans elements here are 100% correct if not let me know. Since this is a fictional setting where magic is pretty much real this could give me a leeway, but, if I did anything who may come across as disrespectful to the Wiccans let me know. Really. I want to learn. I got all my Infos here from the internet.

**The parking lot is crowded as usual.The air is getting thinner by the minute, and all Candy can think among the big number of people around is how the only thing in Candy´s mind keeps repeating and hammering in her mind without taking a break. “I have no time. I need to find it. I have no time. I need to find it,” and ended up stumbling into one of the figures who only stared at her. Soon, all eyes are on her smaller and weak form. They all are waiting, wishing, and hoping for something that Candy is not able to see.**

**“I have to find…” she spoke in a dry and rough tone as her eyes are peering to all the eyes- the air is getting thinner and Candy can´t stand up anymore- “I need to find it…” those words are repeated as a plea and the people and eyes are gone. Now, Candy is on a small beach or maybe it was a lake. Whatever the case is, all her eyes can see is red. The water is covered by crimson liquid.**

_ Like...my hair  _

**She walks slowly towards the bloody water and sees a figure in a relative distance from Candy** _Did I succeed? Are the eyes still on me?_ **as the mysterious figure continues not moving an inch. She wants to see its eyes.**

_ Show me  _

_ Show me! ( _

**Her tongue clicks in her mouth, and she stops in her track as one of her teeth falls from her mouth, still covered in blood** _or water?_ **then comes another, another until there are no more teeth. There's an urge to scream…**

**I have no mouth but I must scream**

**Finally, the figure raises its head and is close enough so the girl could see its crimson eyes. “I was waiting for you…” and then she can see the smile which is similar to the same smile above in the sky gazing, peering and leering at her.**

_ I see you _

__________________________________________________________________________________

Brown eyes snap open as the vision is slowly adjusting and registering in the brain. The image of the white ceiling is a constant reminder of her reality and how everything in her room has a place to be. Brown eyes focused on the many posters near the wall about her favorite book´s saga and saw her healing crystals. The heart is still pumping her blood viciously as she recalls her nightmare. 

“Another one…” the tone is hopeless Brown eyes shift from the posters to a picture in a photo frame (made with seashells) with Candy Magalhães and her wild red hair and her best friend Isaac Summers. “Ok. Do your magic, Candy. Look at the photo,” and she recalls this photo was taken a year ago at a party and how Isaac eat chocolate until he couldn´t anymore and how ended up dirtying her dress. “Happy new years from Candy and Sekel” she reads the words on the photo with a soft smile on her voice. “Thank Hecate...it works”

A moment in time where Isaac and Candy stole as much treats as their little hands could handle is more than enough to form a grin on Candy´s face and her body relax at this small and innocuous recolection. “No candy is safer with me.” She gives a cat like smile. “First, better brush my teeth!”

Her tongue is touching all her teeth, and she is happy to feel and even see all her teeth are in the place. “Another nightmare. Nothing more than that!” she is ready to start the day with her winter dress. “The winter is coming!” Candy had to recite this ancient meme and even posed in the mirror letting her hair tied up in a bun as she finger guns at her reflection. “I look too hot for the winter.”

“Candy! Levanta da cama agora!” Her voice is a mix of loving and authoritative. Maria Magalhães´s voice is easily recognizable even if you have met her once, and Candy giggles at this stating as she heads lower to the kitchen. Their old cottage has two floors and 3 rooms and the stair is always covered with glitter and draws, proving Candy´s inability at art or maybe art is subjective.

Among the stair railing, she saw a drawing of her favorite character. “Lila!” Candy chuckles as the image is not very similar to the official image on the books. “No one is too old or young to join a fandom...but I wish I could draw Lila better…” and wonders if her mother ever had a fandom she was that invested too.

The kitchen of the cottage is smaller but cozy. Pans stewing something as Maria is cutting some herbs and humming an old song. Maria´s body remains the same, however, her natural red hair is free and a bit longer and firmly tied in a bun.

“You need a haircut, mom!” Candy replied as matter of fact as she´s now holding a jar of sweets and ready to devour said treat without a care in the world, of course, this makes her mother exasperated at the notion.

“How did you always find sweets? I hide outside the kitchen this time…” Maria laments and still refusing to accept defeat. Candy only offers her cat-like smile and responds. “Mom, Hecate graced me with a very strong power...plus, you named me Candy...what you were expecting?” 

“Should have named you Rapunzel...in fact, you too need a haircut, young lady!” Maria replies back in a good mood. “Nightmares?” and Candy nods saying it was the same as before. “Hecate must be telling you something….STOP EATING SO MUCH CANDY!”

“NEVER!” and the sweet aroma of the herbs finally hit Candy and the girl wonders if this is a potion to help someone sleep better. “Valerian root? Who needs help with sleep?” and Maria sighs saying it was the same client as usual. “Oh...people are that excited about the red festival? What's so interesting there?...orgies?” the last question earns a chuckle from her mother and indignation from Candy.

“No, just flowers. Everyone loves flowers. Our Hecate loves too” her smile dies off as she goes to the small storage to look for some recipe for the sleeping potion. “The festival in the next month...people love flowers…”

“Even crimson anemones?” Candy asked on the edge as Maria is facing her back to her daughter again and is cutting a new herb. The woman nods. Candy asks again if her mother likes the Red festival, and Maria just nods and the conversation ends like this.

“I need you to pick up some Rosemary for me. Can you do it?” Maria inquiries a bit too quickly saying how she´s missing this particular herb and Candy agrees happily. “ Do we need more eyes of a salamander?” The question is cheeky and is an inside joke among two Wiccans. “No, we have this herb in plenty. But I need Rosemary…”

“For protection?” Candy asked again without mirth. “Is this because of ...the Red Festival? The tourist here can get a bit insane and Brasco too” and Maria only nods now facing her back to her daughter as she´s cleaning a spoon.

_ For protection for this stupid festival...or is she hiding another thing from me? _

Candy is putting a spoon of honey in another pan as Maria is cutting some flowers-not crimson in Brasco, such rarity and so expensive- and is now mixing with the fresh lemongrass -also expensive in this city. Candy is now humming a modern song. “So aside from the Rosemary, should I bring something else?” an impish smile suggests she's thinking of something sweet, however, the smile dies as she notices her mother staring at the only window of the kitchen.

“On the second thought, better stay here...we can go another day. Rapunzels aren't that important,” and Maria winced at such a terrible lie. Candy stops on the small potion and sees what's behind the window. Max Calder is once again there. “Grandpa is here…”

  
  


The silhouette of a man moderately tall with white hair and an unkempt beard and blue eyes that are too similar to Candy´s own father is peering at the cottage from the other side with a grin on his face. “You think Granp wants…” she trails off and Maria shakes her head.

Maria goes to confront him, sighing again as she takes her time to open the door. For a moment, Candy saw the expression of fear and anguish morphing into her mother´s face, only for a moment, because she opens the door and exclaims loudly and proudly. “Hi, welcome to my house. Can I help you?”

“Hi, Granpa. Hi, grand-pére” Candy follows suit ignoring her mother's gaze to go back home. “We're cooking,” she explains with a big grin on her face. The man ignores her and only pays attention to Maria as his frown becomes prominent each second.

_ Did dad ever frown like this? _

“Witch!” he accused angrily and points fingers at Maria who is sheltering Candy who is not seeing the big deal of such a predictable accusation. “Because of you...my son is missing. You put a spell on him...and now, you even have the house it was supposed to be his. This house belongs to the Cardel´s family for generations and you stole it.” The man accuses. Maria is not surprised by how no one reacts to this scene.

Maria´s hands close into a fist and she prays to Hecate (“ _ mother, child, and the old Dame. Give me strength” _ ) to face this situation with as much grace it can bestow a human being. “We had this conversation already, Max. Iff you have a problem with the law, go bother the lawyers, not me. Your son, Candy´s father, gave this house for me and my daughter”

“You made him do it. You stole him from me,” he explains breaking down in tears. “You put a love spell on him and now...my son is missing.” the old man points his fingers trying as might he can to provoke fear in Maria, sadly for him, Maria didn´t flinch not even for a second.

  
  


Maria inwardly curses herself because she´ll have to speak about Jacques Cardel once again. “Max, your son is dead...if you want to believe he found a pretty woman and run away with her to Dreamlands or whatever, not my problem...it is my problem you accusing me...now, should I call the police...again?” and now she crosses her arms and takes her small cellphone out of her pocket, looking without falter at Max.

The police have the right effect on Max, who rose from the ground. “Witch! You´ll know what happens to those who mess with Brasco…” He leaves, and Maria shakes her head at the poor and miserable man. Lost his son and then-wife. Adeline Cardel was the only child of her family and Max took her death the worst.

Candy and Maria did like Adeline. She was a good woman, but Maria had the feeling she had regrets (“ _ Oh Maria, you have no idea how happy I´m for you to be here...maybe, you will be a good sign for this city...I hope Candy can make this city into her home” _ ) and wants to atone for something, and Maria never got the chance to ask…

“You think granma Adeline is sad for grandpa Max?”

“I think...she would be looking out for us”

“Dad too?”

“Yes.”

As soon it was deemed safe. the two Wiccans decided to go to the shop together. Maria holds tight Candy's hand as more posters of missing people enter her view, yet, on Candy´s side, all she sees is the famous crimson anemones.

They leave the south part of Brasco city- a part that is way closer to the marketing and the heart of the city- yet this is a part that wouldn't be considered the higher class. Yes, every cottage and shop is an ancient building mostly untouched by modernity. 

  
  


_ Preserve the past to know your future  _

Candy stops to look at the crimson anemones. “Mom, why Brasco has so many anemones?” she asked looking more at the flowers than to the concerning face of her mother.Maria is not well-versed in lies and many parents often would ignore such inane question, yet, Maria let her eyes linger to the crimson anemones and shakes her head. Is the best answer she can give. Is the honest answer she can offer.

  
  


“Well, didn´t your school haven´t explained this? Biology was never my strong point.” Maria jokes back and Candy said no one talks much about the famous crimson flowers. Let Candy be oblivious in regards those strange flowers, after all, she has only 13 years old...why she needs to control the need to weep and bawl her heart out everytime she sees those damn flowers? Let Maria do this...let Candy still dream about her favorite book in peace.

“Oh, it is just to bait tourists. Candy...nothing more” Maria promised with eyes that didn´t reflect the same feeling in her smile.

“Can I take a flower with me?” and there´s no harm in taking one anemone. Candy crouches down to collect some flowers when she looks up to the forest. Almost dazed.Brasco and the forest have a harmonious relationship. No one invades any barrier and each tourist has a chance to take nice pictures of the green forest. “Mom...the forest is calling me!” is all she could say before she dashes away towards the forest. Towards the clearing.

_ The forest is calling me! Hecate, is this what you want me to do? _

A small poem in homege to this forest plays in Maria´s mind- Candy is far gone in her role as running rabbit- and it was a poem Sophie once told her in hushed tones. 

**The path to the forest is always welcome and invating. The forest is an opening door to those who are friends.**

**The forest is the place of nature and welcomes you.**

**Once you enter...be cunning. Have your eyes open or else...you´ll be part of the forest and the forest will continue to have its open door to the next...victim.**

The short poem ends - in Sophie´s hushed tone as her skin crawls by such implications- as Candy is next to a boy wearing a big dress shirt, messy toffle brown hair, black eyes- looking back and forth in clear sign of confusion- skin too pale (feverish and looking almost as if he was a malfuction ghost) and the boy is groaning in pain.

Maria took one minute to decie that she can scowl Candy later. Priorities firsts. The older woman looks around to see how there´re only herself, Candy and this now mysterious boy in this area. Brasco can be deadly silent and it needs.

_ And...is surrounded by blue anemones _

The girl can't say she knew what she was doing. All she did was put his head on her lap and try to speak with him. For a moment, her bun untangled and her wild red hair is free. It jolts Maria to action.

“Ele tá com febre,” she mutters in Portuguese as she takes out from her pocket a small bottle with a blue liquid and manages to make the boy drink once Candy and Maria promise the boy that it is a remedy. “It’s ok, you´re safe now. The help is on the way. This is a remedy. A natural medication from Hecate herself.”

The boy seems to believe or has no choice in the matter as he took the liquid without a fuss and manages to keep his bloodshot eyes open. The ambulance was called,and Maria can hear the sirens coming to their direction as she quickly hides the bottle. The boy looks at Maria and Candy and speaks one line. “Obrigado e desculpa” 

  
  


“Candy...next time, don´t run away from me!” Maria replies once the boy is now with professional help.

_ He has blue anemones _

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Amy Larsom is the proud owner of the book shop called “Union and Books,” a bookshop that has history intercalated with Brasco´s culture for a very long time. The Larsom opens this bookshop and is an heirloom. The shop has a green carefully selected to match the flag of Brasco and no one ever dared to change. Why fix what's not broken?

And this is a philosophy the Larsom follows at heart. Why fix what's not broken? Amy and her mother have the same light pastel blonde color and wear the hair in the same fashion. Amy´s nose is a bit longer but in her eyes is more regal this way and of course, her eyes are grey as her father.

A loud sneeze and an involuntary shiver announce to Amy the winter is coming and she should have brought a warmer coat. Being a Larsom means living in the higher part of Brasco, and while it comes to some advantages in this area, in the end, it draws a few setbacks as it's far away from the beloved bookshop.

_ I just need to take the bus, and I´ll be there in less than 10 minutes. _

Thankfully, Brasco´s transportation is fantastic for Amy´s needs. All she needs is to travel this road and wait for the bus. However, an unpleasant possibility presents in her mind and is one that makes Amy twist her pretty face in repugnance.

The bus stop is a bit closer to Headmaster Lucia Karlom´s house. Lucia is a woman whose house is filled to the brim with crimson anemones.

_ Freak! _

  
  


_ Ok. Maybe the old hag is not home. She has to have a life outside being the old hag of Brasco.  _

As she waits on the bus stop, her mind reels as Lucia´s voice can be heard muttering something in a low tone. As much Amy prayed and hoped Lucia wouldn't notice her, sadly, she was, and now Amy must portray herself as a real Larsom and engage in a conversation.

The image of Lucia is unforgettable for Amy. White hair perfectly combs in a nice hairstyle. Her face shows a few wrinkles to show her age, but nothing that would prevent Lucia to be considered pretty in a haunting way. Also, Lucia often towers over Amy, which makes any attempt of conversation somewhat a bit ghastly.

“Hello, Mrs. Karlom,” she begins with a friendly tone, showing her white teeth proudly. “The winter is coming at least, huh? Do you think this will change the Red Festival´s schedule? Hope not...global warming is a bitch.” She stops as she looks between the flowers, always crimson, and then back to the bus stop where there´s no bus yet.

“It won't snow for the festival..., if we can be honest...which I doubt, this festival will have less and fewer people to attend...the weather is a curse we must all endure” Lucia´s tone is dry and she looks at the flowers. “ my daughter liked sunflowers...now I can only show her anemones”

Amy is polite if nothing else. “I'm sure when your daughter comes back...you two will plant many sunflowers together” and Lucia´s eyes snap back at Amy who shakes her head slowly and Amy is suddenly feeling dread as the only thing dividing them is a white fence that is easy to kick. 

“Don´t you get it? This is the end. We´re all going to be destroyed and I´ll sit and watch this city be blown to pieces...and that would be the best outcome for us” the bus arrives, and Lucia looks at Amy. “have a nice day Amy...while you still can”

  
  


_ Crazy old lady. No wonder her daughter preferred to go to a foreign than staying with you. _

__________________________________________________________________________________

The commercial side of Brasco only speaks of the Red Festival and how the winter could ruin or improve the attraction for tourism. Amy arrives in her beloved bookshop in record time and ignores all the noises around her-people chat over and over again about the Red festival and Amy must ignore it- to properly greet her 3 employees who share her love for books and this particular job.

“Good morning, Agatha” Amy states smiling wide showing her white teeth. Oh, it`s essential for every good citizen of Brasco to have good hygiene and Agatha can't argue with this logic. “Good morning, Amy. We´re ready to open any minute”

“How about right now?!” is a lame joke but it gets a few chuckles and the 3 employes open the doors of the beloved book shop who had a typical clientele waiting to get a new book. (“Do you have a romance novel?” “do you have thriller stories?” “and horror?”)

All according to the schedule. Some exciting talks about the Red Festival here and there, but the conversation often comes back to the books. Agatha made a signal to Amy who translates as, “I need to be to the bathroom. Can you stay at the clerk for 5 minutes?” Amy nods as Agatha is thankful and dashes to the bathroom.

As Amy is now the clerk for 5 minutes she wasn't expecting much, maybe the lady reading romance would make up her mind and buy the book or would look for another option. Suddenly, a boy of 13 years old with white skin, blue eyes and a boyish face (oh, slowly losing the baby fat and entering into puberty. Will he be a handsome boy?) and of course, blond hair...just like his mother.

_ Hope for his sake he isn´t too pretty… _

“Hello, Isaac Summers, how can I help you?” she asked professionally. Being the son of the mayor does not mean he´s above her other clients. Yet, nothing is saying you need to be rude with the son of the mayor either.

Isaac is putting his two fingers on his lips as if mocking a thinking pose. “I want to do a trade…” and take out of his package a book with a jaded cover that makes Amy frown at the state of the book. 

“I want to trade this book for the first book of the adventures of Lila” and he points to the said book who is behind Amy.

  
  


Amy is less than impressed. “We don´t do trades…” and gazes at the aforementioned book for a moment. Wanting to replace an old book for another one that is more popular is typical of the youth, plus, isn´t the Adventures of Lila got an adaptation on Netflix? “beside...haven't you read this before?” she asked hoping she was not sounding rude. Isaac does not seem to mind.

“Well, yes...but I want to read again. It is a good book” he informs with a boyish smile. “I want to know if it is in this book where she killed the dragon...I forget” he confessed somewhat mortified and Amy is still not seeing the appeal.

“Your best friend can't lead you one?” she tries to negotiate and Isaac shakes his head.

“And admit to her I forget a crucial detail? NOPE”

Amy rolls her eyes and decides to play along. “Ok, I accept the trade for you” and reaches to take the jaded cover book as Isaac sticks around to get the “Adventures of Lila” and goes to read the book happily.

  
  
  


The space is not big nor is it smaller. It has an area for readers to enjoy their books in peace and Isaac has a big smile on his face as he opens the book and reads the summary. Now, he's reading the introduction still smiling.

  
  


“OH MY GOD, AMY!” is too fast to register. All Agatha registered once she is out of the bathroom is Amy falling on the floor with her eyes completely white. “Someone call the ambulance NOW.”

Isaac is still on the first page and now on the second paragraph.

_ Mother will be pleased. _

And now Isaac is on the third paragraph with a big smile on his face

_________________________________________________________________________________

The ambulance arrives quickly and the paramedics are taking Amy to the hospital. Agatha is a mess as she's talking and trying to not cry as she explains what happened. “I was in the bathroom...and when I returned...she was on the floor”. A crownd formed around the book shop watching as two paramedics are lifting Amy´s body in the doolie as they are ready to leave.

Isaac is in the middle of the crowd when the first lady of this city, Sophie Summers, with her blonde hair free and showing clear signals of being on the run. If she was supposed to address the situation with the others as the first lady, then she acts as a mother first.

“Isaac, my little bird, are you ok?” and the boy nods wordlessly looking nervous at the direction where the ambulance was 2 minutes ago.

Sophie offers a smile. And lied swiftly. “Don´t worry. She´ll be fine. It was excess caffeine. She´ll be fine.”

Isaac looks at her blue eyes. So similar to his own and nods again. “Ok, mom” and notices his mom´s nervous glance. “Mom?”

“Sorry, I was just…” she changes the subject. “you´re getting taller...in a few years you´ll be taller just like your father” and Isaac rolls his eyes at that.

“Mom!” he responds as he then remembers the book. “I got the book. I told you they had a copy...can we go to Candy´s house...I want to rub in her face I got the last copy of the book”

Sophie bites her lips tasting the lipstick and decides to tell the truth. “You see, my little bird, Maria, and Candy are in the hospital” and Isaac is quick to freak out at this and demands to visit them and to ask if they´re alright. “no, no, they aren't hurt...Isaac, they found a boy in the clearing”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The big painting is allocated in a way where everyone who enters the hospital's reception of St Clemence can see the Hudson Bay and all Brasco´s glory along with their neighbors. The hospital was founded in 1890 and still has roots of the French colony - looking at the names in French being used such as réceptionniste and docteur- and has a mix of English roots as an image of Florence Nightingale is near the big picture of the Hudson Bay.

Maria and Candy are holding the few shops they managed to acquire as they look at the clock in the reception. Maria´s foot is tapping on the floor in a frenzied rhythm and Candy is looking at Rapunzel.

We had to buy food from Quebec...again. Is that normal? Well, it must be….right?

Sherif Duncan Dylan enters into their view and Maria is frowning a little. The man is tall, has a fake tan skin, green eyes, a mustache and often is seen with his notebook and often wearing his uniform in a pristine way. There´s little change on the uniform along the years and Brasco´s color can be spotted on his uniform and even in his items. After concluding his chat with a nurse, he heads towards Maria and Candy.

“Thank you for coming by, Miss Magalhães” how the man said the surname is often laced with a thick accent and is always different from Maria and Candy´s accent. “I'm sure it must be really difficult ...times for your business” there´s a leery tone here and he writes down something. “Besides...we both know you don't need to work anymore let alone sell tea, right?” his eyes are piecing Maria and only Maria.

“Max Calder did again” her tone is dry as her hand is holding her shop grocery carefully. Never stop gazing at his eyes. “Can you talk with the old man because that´s not the first time he disturbed my house and my family” her eyes land on Candy for a moment who is looking at Rapunzel as if she never saw one before. Avoid all the gazes.

The sheriff writes down in his notebook. He tries again. “Do you know the boy? and before you ask, yes, he´s stable and in a much healthier form...his fever is completely gone before they even treat him. The doctors said it could have been dehydration…” his eyes darken as he continues. “I repeat, do you know this boy?”

She heaves and prays to Hecate in her mind.

“I never saw this boy before today” the man commence with a cold smile- Maria is not interested in see his white teeth, yet, life can´t always be as we wish to be- and gives a pointy look direct to Maria and only Maria. “Did you know the boy was talking Portuguese while in the ambulance...have you any connection to this boy? It`s not always a kid shows up in the clearing ...speaking your language” and his fingers are holding the pencil with such dexterity. A mouth to speak. A hand to write. That´s Sheriff Duncan to Brasco.

_ And no one will mention the blue anemones _

“I never saw this boy before today and you´re avoiding my question. Will you do something about Max Calder?” she challenges and once again he writes something and then replies in a finality tone.

“We´re trying to get as much information of this case as possible, as for Max...I can´t stop him to move, but, I can have a chat with him to stop bothering you. But...you shouldn't say…” his eyes now land on Candy who avoids his gaze as she´s so utterly fascinated by the floor and its design has given no time for her to see the sheriff's eyes. “nevermind, I´ll talk with him and you...please, if you do know something…” the sheriff Duncan trails off finally putting his notebook on his pocket.

“I'll call you in record time. Promise!” Maria makes a cross signal and doing the genuflection of Hecate that went completely lost to Sherif Duncan. Candy then asks something before the man leaves. “Uhm, wait…” all eyes are on her again and she gulps loudly but keeps a plastic smile on her face. “ what about the boy? Where´s he?”

“As I mentioned. He´ll be fine, at least, physically speaking ...we´re doing our best to find his family. I promise this” and with a short nod from years of practice the man leaves and now Maria and Candy are finally alone.

Maria hides her face behind her hands as she slouches down and breathes in as her tone is a bit weak and somewhat broken. “That boy...many years ago, way before you were even born...I gave your uncle a dress shirt just like the boy was wearing around his body…” she stops and takes a deep breath again. “I remember than once I did give him that shirt I told him a joke and he laughs so hard he ended up spitting coffee on the shirt and that stain never left...and that boy was wearing a dress shirt identical with the same stain of coffee”

Candy can only hold her mother´s hand as she continues. “When your uncle was going to that super-rich and super famous club/party or whatever...he was wearing that shirt...he died with that shirt...and I have to know this by his thousands of lawyers. Your aunt was wearing a dress she once borrows from me but...never returns...and again, I heard that from her lawyers” and she finishes slowly raising her head.

_ Oh… _

“You think the boy is linked to us somehow?” Candy remembers a few years ago, maybe it was 2 years ago, a Netflix documentary about João Magalhães, the famous soccer player who died too soon and his talent pop singer sister Marina Magalhães. To avoid any lawsuit, the documentary technically focuses more on the fans than the family, but still is something Candy has no idea on what to think.

“Let's go home, Candy” Maria suggests, giving no room to arguing. Candy does not want to think about her uncles, but reveals a bit embarrassed about how she needs to go to the bathroom or else. Maria rolls her eyes. “Fine, be quick”

“Quick is my middle name”

“No, it´s Ana,” she said, a bit amused at such a reaction. And Candy chuckles as she takes the right turn to where the bathroom. While she does need to use the bathroom Candy wonders if she could ...just a few minutes...see the boy.

_ Ok. Let's do it. _

And she enters the empty elevator and presses the first button she saw and the door opens on the third floor where nurses and doctors are talking about cases or something else and her feet are walking to room 303 as she opens the door.

_ Hecate gives me strength. I´m way out of my element here. _

There´s an IV attached to his armpit and the boy lays down on the bed and his black eyes are looking surprised and happy to see Candy´s brown ones. Candy waves dismissively and puts her finger on her lips to make sure he didn't speak too loud to get the attention of other nurses and doctors.

“Hi”

“Ola, I mean, hello”

Candy comes as close as she can letting her hand rest on the space of the bed where his hand is still at this very moment. “my name is Candy...uhm, are you ok?” and the boy nods but offers a shy smile. “As much one in my position can be”

“What's your name?” Candy asks concerned as no one ever mentioned his name so far. The boy looks out for a moment and his eyes focused on the only piece of art in this room. The painting is abstract enough to make the images sound like… “Adam? Adam!”

“Oh, nice to meet you, Adam” and she tries again. “welcome to Brasco...population 1000 and you now” she jokes hoping to brighten the mood and only stops when her right-hand touches his cold hand.“Are you...do you know why are you here?”

Adam closes his eyes and slowly shakes his head. His mouth twitches as if wanting to say something but at the same time refuses to say anything 

“Look, I know this is sudden and maybe your head must be full of questions right now, but, I truly believe Hecate sent me here to find you. And I chose to want to be your friend if you want.” There´s a small smile on her face as she gazes upon his black eyes on the verge of crying. Her hand is now intertwined with his. 

Adam´s tone is a bit weak but is strong enough for Candy to understand clearly. “I've no idea why I'm here nor if someone is looking for me and I´d have many questions, but I want a friend and you, Candy, seems like a good friend.” His tone now is gentle as her thumb is caressing his palm which is getting less cold. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course”

“Why am I here?” 

"Welcome to Brasco, population? 1000" she spoke calmly as the boy is making his questions.

**Welcome to Brasco population...decreasing**

**decreasing and**

**decreasing**

____________________________________________________________________________

The higher part of Brasco has history and the Larsom´s legacy is well secure in their old house with green fence and roses-well, no more roses but they have crimson anemones now- and the house is still a vision for the eyes of any artist or fan of the classics. Yet, no more joy as Amelee Larsom and Jon Larsom got the news their only daughter is in a weird coma to put in layman terms. Resulting in transfer Amy to a hospital to Toronto or Quebec but her chances of waking up are slimmer to none.

Jon is not walking, more like dragging his feet as his hand nervously goes to the pockets in search of something. “The key, where is the key?” he asked this two times until he turns to see Amelee looking numb at the crimson anemone and asks where is the key.

“The key, woman” he snaps and now he got her attention. Her glittering eyes are on the verge of crying again, butno tear has left yet. The crimson anemone is new in this spot and she mentioned this to her husband. Jon asks for the key once more, losing his patience.

“The burned witch cursed out the town and ...our daughter is as good as dead. She's dead” her tone is a bit muffled by her despair but is enough to be understandable to Jon. “Maybe that´s our punishment...Maybe if we ask forgiveness for the burned witch...she will be at peace.” Amelee has a feverish smile on her face.

“Amelee, our daughter is not dead. We just have to wait, hope, and wish. We have to trust Titus Summers.” His tone is cooler than needed, but Amelee does not seem to mind.

“And Titus trusts himself to save his sister, and where is Beatrice Summers? Oh, right...dead” and she continues to smile wide. “Take the key. Take the house. I have to apologize. I have to know...the burned witch´s name...maybe Max Calder knows her real name” and runs off letting the darkness engulf her figure as only the Larsom´s house has any source of light. Jon got the key and all the crimson anemones.

  
  
  
  



	3. Part 3

The Seeds part 3

N/A: Put the interaction of the kids, mentor, and the government of the UK knowing about the existence of the antichrist.

The higher part of Brasco was built in total classism in mind-either by the French or the British and is one of those rare moments where the colonizers would agree wholeheartedly- and the high part of Brasco is exclusively for 1% of its population and all its tradition. The Summers household is one to be envied by the others, a3-floor house with tons of pink salmon adorning the place.

Mahogany flooring is one of the principal traits of the Summers Household. It´s one of those floorings where each step one gives it causes a loud noise, regardless of the shoe the person wears. The flooring struck a sound as if it’s screaming and either you get used or you move.Isaac Summers is wearing sneakers, and walking side by side. It gives the impression of someone screaming, while Sophie Summers wearing her high heels is not emitting any sound. She is standing still and talking on the phone in a hushed tone. “I'll be there in a minute.”Now, the call is finished.

_ No more sounds _ . 

Isaac halts as his mother is rubbing her eyes for a minute.She puts her cellphone down on the table and watches her son. They have blue eyes, yet Sophie´s blue eyes are so different from her child,almost as if…stop being stupid, Sophie.  _ Isaac breaks the silence with a somewhat mix of petulant tone and sadness only a child could muster. _ “Are you going to leave now? It is too dangerous to go outside.”

Sophie offers a kind smile as she is ready to lie to her only child again. “I have to leave, Isaac, little bird, look at me” She puts on a her brave face, as Isaac is paying attention. “This boy your friend found may be the missing lead we´re all waiting for. We can finally find the missing children and help them.” Sophie bites her lips, inwardly denying any hope of the kids being alive, yet she's only human as much as Maria is too. 

_ In the end, I just hope to bring some closure _

Isaac only nods as his eyes flick between the window and to his mother. Sophie Summers is patting his head kindly. “And I must go there to help, to see what I can do. I´m the first lady, after all,” she jokes and is not surprised to see no reaction to her small and lame joke.  _ Yeah, I was more an actress than a comedian _ . “Can you understand?”

Isaac frowns and asks one thing. “Why can't father do that? It is almost as if you´re the only one who cares for those missing cases.” Those words did strike hard on Sophie as her hand grip on her necklace and she closes her eyes and opens again. 

“I want to help and I created this group. Your father is already busy administrating this city” She caresses his face putting a rebel wisp of blond hair behind his ear. “ And I want to do this for you as well...if there´re dangers in this city...a mother should get rid to protect her kids” Sophie states calmly and Isaac blinks owlish - it´s a trait that makes Sophie grin amusedly and Isaac has no idea why- and the boy decides to be more direct in this case. 

“Mom...there's a curse in this city” his tone is even but his eyes are laced with curiosity. The boy learns how to tone his curiosity having knowing some adults think is cute when kids make question until they found annoying. Isaac can share information even if people will treat as a joke.

Sophie shakes her head in a good mood.  _ Of course, a child would think in magic in times like this _ and she speaks as if she's confessing a great secret. “Little bird, there are no curses in this city. Only human problems...and I'm your mother and I´ll solve it...you know why?” Isaac shakes his head waiting for the reply “Because I´ve got the greatest power of the universe on my side. I'm a mother” and she winks at the boy now messing with his blond hair one last time. “I´ll go to the police station...I must return in a few minutes” a white lie never hurt anyone.

Isaac´s right corner of his lip quivers slightly before he asks. “So...I'll be here all alone?” and Sophie shakes her head saying how the security systems are on point. Her fingers points the strategistic places the sensors are located with easy and Isaac follow the line.

“You know the password, right?” and once the boy confirms the password she continues. “And you´re not alone here...your father is here with you”  _ let's not mention the neighbors, the Curlems are ...not well to put mildly _ .

“So...I'm all alone here” Isaac mutters softly and before his mother mentions this, if she truly has heard this line, the boy adds. “So, I´ll be here in my house...safely put and if anyone asks I´ll be here ...eating noodles and citing rhymes” he completes.

“Mom...do you remember your promise?” Isaac asks minutes before the woman turns the door handle -ignoring the many pictures of the blond woman with blue eyes and the fine china in display- the woman flashes a genuine smile and shows her pink. 

“Little bird, a promise is something sacred” and she flies a kiss for him and leaves.

Once the woman is no longer in the house-and the car is not in the view- Isaac sighs dejectedly “You´re a terrible liar mom” his tone is dry and his blue eyes are no longer focusing on the window nor on the outside view. “but is ok...a promise is a promise”

______________________________________________________________________________________

There´s an abundance of paintings and photos of a woman with blue eyes and blonde hair. Said woman is show in several stages of life-childhood, teenage years and adulthood- and the woman in such paintings and photos has always the same expression. A blank stare.

Candy once saw those photos and did question why Isaac´s mom was looking so forlon- Candy knows by heart that Sophie loves to smile in photos and adores look photogenic- and Isaac could only response with much tactic as this situation deserves. “This is not my mother, this is my aunt...Beatrice” and ever since then Candy makes no questions about those photos.

The kitchen is white and devoid of sounds. The boy took his time admiring and pondering what to do for dinner. No maids or cookers for this household because Titus Summers prefers to make his own dinner  _ or he prefers no one knows the dirty laundry...and keep his fans at bay. _

  
  


“Father is in the study office as always” his eyes travel to the ceiling wherein the second floor is the aforementioned study office. The boy snaps his fingers and a package of noodles flies directly to his hands. 

“So I have time...and time is the essence” snapping his fingers again directs a fat candle from the shelf to his hand. This candle has a small card attached ‘’to our favorite client, with love Maria and Candy’’ and Isaac carefully puts the card in his pocket.

Once the noodles are properly eaten and there´re no dishes on the kitchen site-Isaac thoroughly analyzes the plate and even rubs his fingers on the plate to make sure it is properly clean- getting satisfied with the results. Isaac leaves the kitchen wordlessly.

The way to his room is often met with images of a woman with blond hair, blue eyes, and fake smiles. “Hello, aunt Beatrice...did you ever smile sincerely once in your entire life or this house sucks all your joy?'' His tone is neutral as his eyes scan the image of Beatrice Summers- beautiful, young, and wither before her time - and adds. “I guess...we'll have our cross to bear and if it is worth...I'm sorry” and moves to his room.

His room is ridiculously easy to locate-in a series of black or brown doors, his room is the only one with an orange door and a small place with bold letters saying “Isaac's room. Don't enter without permission”- Isaac knocks softly almost as if he merely touches the door and speaks. “I'm here...let me in” and the door opens by itself revealing only darkness.

It is a void without anything except Isaac´s presence. The true darkness engulfs his small frame leaving only his head to be visible - there´s no sound, there´s no breathing, there´s only the void- and Isaac lifts his finger to create fire. It´s so insignificant and is being consumed by the darkness already. There´s nothing but the void here. “I'm here to talk with the burned witch...I have an offering in her name” and the fat candle hovers in the air until it is consumed completely. “Mother I want to talk with you!”

The candle remains in his hand as the door closes behind him. “I'm here to talk with the burned witch...I offer the candle in her name” and he lights the fat candle and puts hovering in the air. “Mother I want to talk with you”

A figure appears out of the void dressed in black and veil donning with pale skin. Her eyes are white as her hands are holding the candle as the light is still struggling with the void, it makes Isaac think is she using the void or the void is using her? 

“I'm here ...my son”

______________________________________________________________________________________

“Again? Then we must open another commercial trade with Quebec” Titus states feeling the sweater drops from his forehead as his other hand is writing the pieces of information without really looking at the piece of paper. “How is Roseland so infertile? Can we save any crop? I see...Take what you can and store it...and don´t let the others find out...we have problems enough as it is…” The man sighs tiredly and asks. “The Curlems? No, they can´t help...no, no signal of improvement, and maybe it is better to confine them in the asylum...yes, that's the best option but let’s handle one problem at a time” Titus closes the end conversation.

  
  
  


Titus rubs his temples and closes his eyes. One thought rule in his mind now.“water...yeah, I need water” and gulping loudly the man is taken by thirst and gulps loudly and exits the study office. “Sophie?” and slaps his face bemused. “I forget...silly me” and decides to head to the kitchen.

“She’s not here. She's helping the city” a familiar voice responds behind him. Titus turns to see Isaac looking up to his father as Titus looks down at him. Both have a similar expression of neutrality.”She told me...she´ll take hours to come back” Isaac lied with a cheerful smile now.

Titus raises his chin and his eyes observe the image of Beatrice Summers- the woman has a blue dress and is holding a cat and offering a faux smile- and his eyes now travel to his son. “Have you thought about what we talk previously?” Titus changes the topic of the conversation. “You´ve 13 years old ...no more a silly little boy...do you really want to hide behind your mother's dress forever?”

  
  


“Yes, of course...I'll leave Brasco...me and Candy will leave too” Isaac replies and does look back as his father called his name only once and gave up feeling terribly thirsty. Titus is so thirsty that he could swear the fake smile on Beatrice Summers is genuine now.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The old and forgotten room used to be a place to store boxes and old item now change into a blue room- a vividly blue tone coming from the walls and mixed with the lights coming from the devices such as computers and monitors- and the flooring is completely covered with a fuzzy carpet preventing any sound to be emitted by any footstep. “Mrs. Summers!” Sheriff Duncan greets her in a polite way writing something in his notebook without ever taking his eyes from the notebook.

“What do we have?” Mrs. Summers asked impatiently. Tapping his foot on the ground knowing full well how loud the sound can be thanks to the type of shoe he´s using right now. His eyes are so blue and gazing only on his son. Father and son look at each other. Father and son can´t really see much without words.

Sheriff Duncan is the one to respond to her questions and this makes her eye tremble a little as he mentioned the lack of personal for this little group. “I'm enough for this operation” Sheriff Duncan answers with a plastic smile and Mrs. Summers's small smile and quivering eye answers for itself.

A restrained smile plays on her lips- lips painted with red and often gives her the power to face those moments with a level head mind- and she speaks in a diplomatic tone. “I'm sure the police of Brasco did an excellent job here...I want to know what the finest of Brasco come up to” and she smiles prettily just like any good actress worth their salt should.

  
  


Sheriff Duncan halts his writing movement and looks down to her- the man is taller than her by a few inches, but, those inches surely make a difference for him- and speaks again.”We enter in contact with the database of all the missing cases of the US and Canada...there´s no signal of Adam or any information of his whereabouts” and frowning, he adds. “We enter in contact with Brazil´s embassy and they have many cases of missing people around the globe and in their lands...but, the photo of Adam didn´t jog anyone´s memory”

.Sophie is clearly not happy. “You have theories...or else you wouldn't have called me here” she gestured to the few police officers walking outside of this operation room talking on the cellphone- and Sophie hopes it is related to this operation- and turns her eyes to him. “So, spill...what´s are those theories?” she crosses her arms and the corner of her eyes she saw the officers leave - either to do their job or because they´re confident Sheriff Duncan can appease the “first lady”

_ Let him try...and let me see him fail _

“I have one at the moment. Cults!” Sheriff Ducan puts his notebook down and speaks. “It´s just a theory I have at the moment, but many cults would have kids non-register to do well, whatever one does in cults...and maybe Adam just runs away from the cult or someone helps him escape” and shrugs off. It is not a well-detailed explanation, but, it is the one that makes sense at the moment. His smirk grew as Sophie nodded at his words.

_ Good theory...I'll give him that much _

“We have any lead of which cult is?” Sophie asks and the smirks die off as the sheriff informs how they have no real idea.  _ Typical  _ “And I think I already know this, but, hey I'm a sucker optimistic...has anyone checked the clearing or the forest?” she asked tersely and of course the answer is as predictable as she was imaging.

“No one enters that forest! No one” the sheriff exclaims to a bemused Sophie. “The last person who entered the forest was your husband´s sister...and you get the grim end she got” and Sophie closes her eyes.  _ Yes, as if Titus ever forget that, you dumbass as if anyone let him forget that! _

“So, let me get this straight, no one ever maps the forest because of one accident and when there´s the possibility of us track down a fucking cult...it´s better no upset the bogeyman? DO I GET THAT RIGHT?” Sophie´s tone has wrath in there and the Sheriff seems to realize this now.

Silence rules the operation room- some officers pass by to gawk at the silent confrontation-until the sheriff lowers his head and speaks. “Just because you´re the first lady...it doesn't give you too much power” his tone is laconic and Sophie couldn't care less.

_ I know...dumbass _

“But...we can do what you ask...with some precautions, of course” his tone is not happy and Sophie still doesn't care. “By the way, what will happen to the child?” and Sophie sighs, not impressed as she speaks again with that great fake smile.

“If a great friend of mine agrees...Adam will be in a great home until this mess is untangled”

“You think Maria Magalhães is a good option?” there's a sneer on his face-it travels to his entire expression. Eyes, smile, nose. Everything- and Sophie only shakes her head.

“If you think Maria is a bad choice, if you really think Maria wouldn't care for a child...then it shows your skills as detective and how lacking they are”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

_ They´re on time _ !

Thanks to the bad weather approaching- to any carioca born and raised in Rio de Janeiro, winter is always going to be a bad weather- Maria closed the window of the second floor, however, said window is so clean that gives the ilusion of no existence of any window. The eyes of the house are always opened and Maria swears is not intentional metaphor of her life.

Thanks to this spotless window is possible to see the social worker´s car parking near her house- a woman with blonde hair donning with brown leather jacket is helping Adam to get out of the car- and the toffle brown hair of one Adam boy-no surname yet- can be seen as well is discomfort in being near the woman or hold her hand.

Candy is inside the house- the girl is a force of nature and Maria knows how she could throw subtle out the window and speak freely and sometimes this is her best trait, sometimes, this is her worst trait- and Maria is now facing the social worker. “My name is Sarah MCconey” and she offers a winning smile-adorning her square face as her blue eyes have a gleam matching her smile- one closer look proves to Maria one thing , _ not a real blonde, and judging by the roots, she is a brunette. _

A firm handshake is offered and Maria introduces herself- her eyes darted to the boy who avoids looking at the social worker - his eyes are gazing at the ceiling and quickly change to gaze at the green grass. Maria wonders if the social worker noticed or if this is normal behavior- and Candy baldozer with her wild red hair as she´s now gaining his attention.

“As it was agreed you´ll have his guardianship for the time being” her tone is cheerful and Maria can't fault her from being unprofessional, but, there's something poking in her mind as the woman refuses to look at Adam or Candy playing and chatting as normal kids should. 

Maria nods and Adam now gazes at her form- the boy's feet are so still and the image of a rabbit ready to run for his life pops in her mind- and the woman, with her red hair tamed for now in a nice braid, and her lips quiver into a grin. “Nice to meet you, Adam” and the boy nods wordlessly. “You´re welcome to this house, Adam”

The social worker offers the bureaucratic part- no one adopts a boy without the legal processing, even as Sarah mentioned, someone as rich as Maria and now Maria has a reason to look at Sarah with stinky eyes- and once the documents were signed and delivered Sarah waves goodbye without ever looking at Adam. Maria noticed how the boy looks way more relieved to see her gone.

_ Bad social worker?  _

_ Will have a chat with Sophie later  _

Candy is the one pulling Adam inside the house and speaking proudly how the cottage is magic. 

The images of Hecate and other elements of Wiccans are not hard to support her idea and Adam is clearly curious as he's asking who Hecate is and what she does. Maria shivers thanks to the bad weather and opens the door and prompts her to take her shawl and notices how the boy is not shivering even though his clothes are not proper for this weather.

Maria narrows her eyes for a moment and quickly claps her hands together. “Candy, I think his room is not clean from bad spirits…” she trails off and Candy runs to the stair taking an incense - Adam watches her leave asking if this is all about Wiccans rules and Candy said one vibrant yes- and now, they're alone.

“Don’t worry, spirits won't hurt you...nor anything alive” Maria speaks in an easy way, while her eyes are far too serious to be taken as a joke. “I want to talk with you...I know this must be new for you and …” she stops and puts one hand on her pocket. “if you want to tell me something...anything...I'm here”

_ Are you ok, Adam? _

And Maria takes a medallion out of her pocket- the medallion's rope is broken and the medallion itself looks dusty- and shows the image of 2 women and one man. The woman in the middle is a younger Maria with badly done brunette hair, the other woman with vibrant red hair is Marina Magalhães and the man with the dress shirt with the coffee stain.

“Do you perhaps know who those people are?” Maria asked in a patient tone as Adam looks at their faces without blinking and closes his eyes as he shakes his head. The pictures seem to stare. Seem to wait and hope for the final veredict and Adam lips twisted as his eyes took every little detail in consideration.

“I don´t understand many things...and I have many questions and at the same time...I fear those questions…” he trails off not daring to conclude his own thought or line. And finally avert his eyes from those strange people. “I´ve no idea who they´re” it almost feel as there´s a real knot in his throat.

  
  


“Those are my brother and sister...they are very famous even after death” the tone is neutral while her eyes avoid looking at the image of her last relatives- “I thought since...they're so famous...maybe you knew them somehow...Marina´s songs still play on the radio and even in some movies” she explains and Adam shakes his head.

  
  
  


“Eu não sei quem eles são” his tone is laced with a Brazilian accent, no, to be more exact, is one with Carioca´s accent and Maria offers a forlorn smile. Maria wonders if she can hug him- not everyone likes hugs so quickly, Isaac took his time to accept hugs, from Maria and Candy, and Maria can respect Adam´s boundaries.

  
  


“I'm full of questions and no answer”

“It is what makes us human, Adam!”

“...yeah”

______________________________________________________________________________________

Everything has a purpose, people, objects and even rooms and right now the grey looking room is perfect to host a new member of this magical cottage - as Candy loves to call among her close ones- the room has one bed with bed setting in a shade of green matching well with the curtains and it has one lonely shelf above the headboard. Dark eyes look up and down to the room in awe and Candy is all smiles at this scene.

“This is my room?!” Adam states noticing the boxes present. Candy stops smiling as she´s playing with her wild red hair-and Adam goes to see what's in those boxes. Candy speaks in a quick tone if he liked the room and Adam is quick as well to say how much while still opening the box. Candy only bites her lips and still fidgets with her wild red hair.

The boxes have some clothes for Adam, mostly bought in stores, as Candy explains, and if they don't serve him or anything they can change for a more fitting size. Adam takes a whiff of the shirt. “Wow, brand new shirt,” he jokes and notices her expression and how she's looking at one lonely box. “Is there´s something I should see in those boxes?”

Candy´s eyes twitch for a moment as she shakes her head. “No, of course not. It´s just clothes,” she promised and Adam is not convinced even though he´s opening the box. Yes, there's a few shirts and pants there and it looks to be on his size but Adam is not paying attention to the attire but to Candy.

“You're a bad liar.” His tone is serious but not unkind. His eyes studies Candy´s feature. What secrets he holds? What secrets she holds? And in those questions there´s always one winner and one loser.

And Candy comes clean already having a brand on her hair. “Ok, those clothes used to be from Timothy Curlem ...and he's studying abroad in Australia” Adam shakes his head again, and Candy sighs. “Sorry, the boy went missing a few months ago...his parents gave me his clothes and I could have said no, right? What parent...would give away mementos of their only son?” she asked more to herself than to Adam.

“They forced you to accept this?” Adam asked, now curious at the box than to Candy.

“No. I just felt pity. They gave me the box. A few shirts and pants...I could have said no, well, they didn't have the right mind to say or do anything” she bites her lips for a moment. “I felt so much pity that I took this box with me...I could have given away the clothes or even told my mom...but, I couldn't give away the box. I´m so sorry Adam'' she speaks with watery eyes and remorse in her tongue.

“Hey, there´s nothing to forgive here, Candy” Adam speaks as soft (and watery eyes) glance to his dark eyes. “I think I get it...I'm not mad” and this makes the girl clean her tears as the boy promised everything is alright and she's not “the worst person ever” as she was claiming to be.

Adam took another glance of the outfits-his mind trying to conjure the poor boy for a moment and all its appears in his mind is a poorly made strawnboy- and takes his mind out such picture to focus on Candy. There´s no bitterness in his tone or expression and Adam suppose if he was in Candy´s role he would have done the same.  _ Would I? _

“Oh, Adam! I think you pick the wrong city to pop in,” she jokes chuckling a bit mirthless. “Brasco has mysteries and we're often decreasing in people …” She bites her lips and didn't finish her line. Adam nods gently again and sits on his bed.

“I noticed...but, look...I´d not get God or Wiccans, but, I know something ...if Hecate guides you to me...then I feel we´ll be ok…” Adam scratches his neck and offers a small smile and Candy blushes.

“Adam...there's something strange going in this city...and “  _ and what ? do you want to solve it? Look at the Curlems and how they lost much more than just their only son.  _

“Again, I noticed. Small cities are strange by nature” his tone is humourous, “and I'm not afraid...I have you” and this increases her blush as she fake a cough and changes the subject  _ no one ever said that to me...not even Sekel. _

“Ok, moving on...I've something way better and safer to talk about. Stay here.” She runs to her room and is back carrying books as if her life depends on and Adam manages to peer through the distance the name of those books “the adventures of Lila'' and Adam blinks as Candy grins widely. 

The book has an unique cover. A girl riding a dragon and staring at the reader as if daring to open the book. Candy seems to be the daring type and maybe Adam can be one in the future too.

“Uhm...what's this? I like the dragon” Adam mentions off-hand and Candy shows him the cover with the dragon. There´re many covers with dragons in different poses.

  
  


“Oh, this is one of the best books of the entire world,” Candy sings high praises for those books as Adam's face changes to a forlorn one, and Candy notices it. 

“You...think I can read?” he asks looking away and Candy feels mentally slapping herself.

_ Oh shit, I forget...boy from the forest. Shit. _

“Oh, Adam...I'm sorry. I can teach you how to read…” she was speaking with kindness in her tone and even reflected on her expression, but she stops once she sees Adam smirking at her and winking. “ Because I like to read a lot”

_ Great...he can be a jerk like Sekel. _

And to prove his point, Adam reads out loud the acknowledgment of the author to all people who make this book possible and Candy is not impressed. “Yeah, you know how to read...and speak Portuguese, think back...how do you know Portuguese?” and Adam shrugs off as his eyes are engrossed in the book.

  
  


His eyes are focused on the words of this book. However, for some reason, he noticed the book with the same name but different cover. It makes him stop reading and touch this other cover. “Wait, this art is pretty cool too.” Adam smiles but Candy is faster in taking this edition and holding it tightly.

“It´s an item for collectors. The artist who made this cover...is no longer here and well, this art is priceless now” she shows to Adam all the details such as the titular character holding the flaming sword and the dragon looking even more prominent than in the other cover. “It was made by Jacques Calder.” She offers a small smile and Adam didn't make any questions about it.

_ Why did I bring this edition? _

“Candy. Does Lila have a sister? I have a feeling this girl named Sarah is her sister” and Candy now grin wide and Adam frowns. The boy has questions and Candy has all the answers.

“No spoilers.” Adam closes his ears as the grin on Candy remains. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________

The division on Brasco´s location can be summarized is organized in the following way: The higher part of Brasco is where the elite lives, the central part of Brasco is where the heart pumps live to the city aka the commercial side of the city, and finally, the lower part of Brasco is where the rest of people live. Isaac watches how the commercial side of Brasco is already putting red to decorate their shops.

“Mom? Are the Curlems enjoying the decoration too?” his tone is childish as his eyes are focused on the decorations in-display -triangles, flowers, even discounts on themes regards crimson and flowers- and Sophie waits as the traffic light is still red -of course, as everything in Brasco- and the woman taps on the steering wheel.

_ Can I lie again? _

“The Curlems are just dealing with suffering in their own way…” she responds nicely never once looking at her son- still waiting for the green light and sighing in defeat as a little imitation of carol happens to divulge the red festival. She can see the group singing and avoiding eyes with the cars on the other side. Singing louder, louder as if they want to reach the sky- and Sophie adds. “I just wish those cats would go away…The Curlems are deadly allergic to those animals…”

“The cats own the house now” Isaac shrugs off and looks as the green light is hit and Sophie is finally able to leave this part and move on-ignoring the music and the red festival upcoming.

_ They have such depressing songs _

Sophie is an excellent driver, of course, opinions may differ as her husband says she's a hazard with the car. However, Sophie and Isaac arrived in Maria´s cottage without a hitch- the lower part of Brasco has the commercial trades and one of the many advantages is how the transit tends to be easier to navigate. Of course, when it is on the Red Festival´s time the transit will be a horror to everyone- and Isaac is more than happy to see his best friend.

Once the car is parked, in Sophie's mind it was amazing parking and Maria is just not understanding the beauty of her driving skills, Isaac opens the door and runs like an undomesticated animal to Candy. Her hair is free and the wind is moving some wisp of crimson hair. She notices Adam and Maria in the entrance.

“Sekel!” Candy waves her hands at him and points at Adam with good humor as the boy is waving at him shyly- and Candy opens her best smile and greets Sophie, the first lady and is quick to introduce Isaac and Adam. “Sekel, this is Adam...Adam...this is Sekel!” and Isaac shakes hands with Amda as if they´re making a business deal.

  
  
  


“What´s your full name?” Isaac asked as his mom only refers to him as Adam- names have importance and that's something his mother often tells him- and Isaac waits as Adam sighs and finally gives his full name. 

“Adam Adam” is a straightforward reply and goes along with a serious expression. Telling someone´s name is an ancient costume that few people understand. Isaac feels he understand more than normal people.

“Adam Adam? So, your initials are AA? I mean, that's really cool...you can trick many people with this” Isaac is already imagining how people could get confused if his name was Isaac Isaac. Adam chuckles at his expression- too pensive and with blue eyes looking at anything and nothing at the same time- when Candy facepalm herself.

“Adam!” she admonishes him, and the boy shurgs and confess the joke without much remorse. Candy rolls her eyes and Isaac is clearly confused.  _ What´s his name then? _

Adam, once done laughing at their expression, reveals his real name. “Sorry, my name is Adam Smith” and flashes a nice smile, and Isaac can say he forgives this prank just this once.

“OK, aside from your name...important questions must be made here” Isaac crosses his arms and looks as intimidating as one can be-13 years old boy with blue eyes and blond hair won't be considered a big threat as far as the adults believe- and his tone is as dark as it can be. “Do you like the adventures of Lila?”

Adam inhales and exhales and responds. “I don't like it…” and trails off drinking from the image of shock from Isaac as he adds. “I love it” and Candy shakes her head at their interaction. “I don´t get why an adaptation on Netflix needs to have sex...the first book hardly has sex...and well, yes is not sex with the protagonist...but still…” he trails off and Isaac nods solemnly.

“You're alright Adam Smith” and Isaac looks up to see the dark clouds forming. “Damn...stupid weather” the boy complains.

“I like it. I think is beautiful weather”

“You´re losing some points here, Adam”

Meanwhile, the adults are in a safer distance to not bother the kids with their talk but at the same time, their eyes are still being able to watch the kids talking and watching as Adam is taking them to his room-Maria nods letting them be and said in a couple of minutes the snacks will be ready- and once the kids are now in Adam's room.

“OK, is Sarah MCconey have any complaints in her file or something like that?” Maria speaks.Too headstrong and not caring in the slightest for burecracy or reputations, after all, that social worker Sarah seems to be a bad one and Maria won´t stop idly and let that woman get unpunished. At the very least, she should be investigated.  _ Adam was so uncomfortable around her... _

Sophie drops her smile and looks at her friend confusedly. “Who is Sarah?”

Maria blinks and wonders if this is a joke. “Very funny. The social worker that was here...she was…” Maria stops as Sophie´s face pales as her eyes widen.

“Maria, the social worker's name is Jennifer Waters...Who is this Sarah?”

Maria covers herself with her shawl and shakes her head. “a woman with blond hair and blue eyes was here with Adam…” and she hopes it was a bit misunderstood, yet, Sophie´s expression continues to look frightened.

“Jennifer has ginger hair...Maria, who is Sarah?”

____________________________________________________________________________________

The gate of entrance for flight 455 has few eyes paying attention to the small queue leaving- the robotic voice in the lounge echoes in every spot possible and speaks in many languages- “The Airport of London City welcomes the flight of Canada-England, we thank you for choosing our services and hope you enjoy your staying in our city, London has everything and anything to those who seek” and a woman with bald haircut, baggy pants, an old weary white shirt and carrying a package-and nothing else- looking up and down to the establishment with a dull expression- her blue eyes aren't paying attention to the paintings in display.

An attendant looks as if he wants to be any place but here- and is smiling fakely every time the supervisor is arriving back and forth watching and writing and waiting- and the man with his dark bags under his eyes inquiries the bald woman. “What's your name?”

“Merida Colleen” she states looking at his eyes- the man is not really looking- and asks for documentation to prove her claims. 

Documentatios are the new soul. Is what Merida gather around the years. If you don´t have the right papers...do you really exist? Luckily for Miss Colleen...she has the right paper. No kafkaesque nightmare for Merida...tonight.

The man studies the document- trying to ignore the supervisor´s gaze- and nods at the woman. “Welcome to London, Miss” and Merida smiles as her green eyes shine, matching her pretty smile.

  
  


There´s an almost empty line of framed chairs and Merida can sit and relax for a moment - Merida throws her head and closes her eyes. “13 hours of travel for that, damn!”- and tries to relax. I have something to do and I need to do it now(thought) and while Merida is almost drifting away to sleep-it was such long flight and her mission will be as unpleasant as it should be. As mentioned before, and Merida certainly noticed but didn´t voice any complaints- she avoided any eye contact with such ferocity. It´s a talent few possessed- she can hear two men- one is named Sam and the other is John- talking about the latest blockbuster.

“And then the bloody bitch, no, wait, that's the best part of the movie” Sam states ignoring the fact his voice is a bit louder. “the bloody witch is burned by her own victims. And it was so realistic...the screams of agony and later...they even stuck a knife into her body, I mean, what was left of her body. So, it won't have a sequel” Sam promised and John agrees.

  
  


“Yeah, that witch deserves it, but they took so much time to kill her...I thought she would make it and yeah it was a great finale see that bitch being burned” John agrees and Merida frowns as she shakes her head and turns to them. Her blue eyes are back and she has such lovely golden curls.

“Hi, boys!” her tone is chipper and bubbly - who would notice why a pretty face is wearing almost rags if she has a nice body?- no one is ignoring her. “You two love to see witches burning? How about an idea ...how about you two take the flight for the first flight and never notify friends, family and your jobs.” She flashes a winning smile and Sam and John nod wordless as they are rising from the chairs and looking through their app at an open flight.

There´s one to Moscow right now and Sam and John are buying the tickets now.

_ Shouldn't have done that...Oh well _

She scratches her arms and leaves too. Outside the Airport London City there's a taxi waiting for her- not really, but, with Merida´s long red hair and grey eyes the taxi driver feels compelled to wait and even open the door for her- and once inside the taxi a small chat is initiated.

“Welcome to London, Madam, are you from Canada? The flight Canada- London is always on time” the taxi driver explains in hope to not sound noisy and Merida nods without looking at him.

The cab has an artificial smell. Merida can see the irony of such smell applying to someone like her.  _ Nothing is natural with me unless I say so... _

“I´m from Brasco” and adds softly. “Take me to Terrin city” 

“Of course!” and the taxi driver never saw the golden eyes the woman is wearing now

_ It seems even in death you won´t leave me alone...burned witch, what a cruel name _

_ _____________________________________________________________________________ _

Meanwhile, inside an old building located in London- the ones where tourists take photos and wonder about the significance of such structure to the city- a man is walking among the maze of white and beige with silently steps and grin playing on his faces as the man- toffee brown hair, strong built, tall, dark eyes- waves friendly at Bertha, a petite woman carrying a box 3 times her size with one hand. “Good morning, Bertha, need a hand?” 

The box looks heavy and has an unpleasant smell too. Theo wonders if Bertha´s shift is getting better or worse, moreover, like a real gentleman he should offer help ...even if Bertha is carrying such item without breaking a sweat.

Bertha only waves her free hand at him. “I got it, agent Theo Smith, we both know who is the strongest here, plus, the council is already waiting for you, the Aftermath doesn't like waiting” and still using her free hand she presses the red button and a secret door inside the wall opens. “Good luck, and if you excuse me...this thing needs to be destroyed” she smirks devious as the box tries to run- its days are counted- and Bertha didn´t give more thought to the conversation anymore.

  
  


Inside of the secret door, there's a mahogany room cover- heads to toe and the colour brown is so strong that could blind a person- Agent Smith can even got a whiff of mahogany and the repellents and his face twisted in discomfort- “The smell here is each day worse” he states to the 3 figures in the room. A woman with ginger hair, cover completely to the point no one can see her face or any trace of skin- you can, however, see bandages- then to the second woman who brown skin, a high ponytail and one eyepatch on her left eye, finally, a round man with a “monopoly man” type of moustache.

The woman with the eyepatch removes said eyepatch showing her white eye and for a moment, her other eye changes to white until it is back to its green natural colour- she looks at agent Smirking now- “Is Constantine. There ruin your joke” and Agent Smith pouts and sighs in dejected.

“Ok, let's skip jokes and introductions” and his tone shifts to a more serious one as his eyes only gaze to the 3 people in this room. “I was studying some correlations and I noticed something, Brasco has a higher rate of missing persons than US and Sri Lanka.” his tone is getting dark now. “It´s a number too big to be a mere serial killer and Brasco is not a city that big to warrant missing cases like big cities…” he trails off as the 3 murmur between each other. “But this could be nothing, and wouldn't even have caught my attention if it wasn´t by the cult we arrested and executed last month. Another cult that worship Satan or think they´re workshipping Satan…” and his voice is a whispear. “They believe the antichrist is walking on Earth...and I'm inclined to think...they're not delusional this time”

“Sandra, can you see it?” the ginger woman asked the eyepatch woman-now named Sandra- who took her eyepatch and grits her teeth as she shook her head and the others were concerned. “Ok, let's think this rationally...if this is true…”

The rounded man speaks now. “Look, no offense to Sandra or Petunia, but, there are always words about antichrist. Even in Victorian times...hell, my first case was about an antichrist´s case and it was just…married woman has a baby with her lover and husband wants to blame Satan” and crosses his arms looking at the agent. “Why this would be different?”

Agent Smith did not wait another second to reply. “Yog-Sothoth is the key, Yog-Sothoth is the gate, Yog-Sothoth is the answer” and the rounded man sits back hiding his face behind his hands and Sandra takes the word. “And you think the antichrist is on Brasco, of all places?”

“I want to find out myself. I want permission to visit Brasco and their lovely red festival...if The Aftermath so agrees”

The 3 nod at each and back to agent Smith. “If you´re dealing with the Antichrist...murder him or her without mercy...never thought I would say this, but, I hope this is just a serial killer” Sandra declares and Petunia the rounded man all agree.

_ Brasco...here I go _

  
  



	4. Part 4

  
  
  


N/A: Here we go. Dagon will be mentioned here.

When one thinks of England, many images flash in one's mind: Harry Potter, the Royal Family, famous actors, and so and on. Yet few wonder what the small cities in England have to occult. After all, small cities are often dull if compared with vibrating big cities such as London. Felixstowe earns tourism but never will gain curious eyes. And that´s the beauty of the small cities. The outsider will never know what is roaming below.

Agent Theo Smith is walking on the sidewalk of South Beach, one of the best tourism points of this city. The fog is almost clouding his view. And the water, laying on the floor, is ice running towards his feet and slowly traveling until the calf.His mouth clenches as the temperature difference is almost screaming in his body. Getting colder and colder as goosebumps travel through his entire form. _Oh, who wouldn't want to visit the lovely small cities in England?_ His dark eyes look at the eye observing his moves. The eye is the ocean. The ocean is Dagon.

_And what small city could resist the call of Dagon?_

His expression is blank. As his eyes watch-ignoring, if possible, the ocean. The ocean is Dagon. Dagon is the ocean- the children entering happily in white vans. Some are donning themselves with handmade outfits, others are using big jackets.Some are showing dorsal fins at the top of their heads, and some are showing nostril eyes. _Those kids ...poor children….they're often the price._

A distinguished figure of an anthropomorphic fish, donning himself with an elegant suit, is walking towards the ocean. His mouth has razor-sharp teeth matching the smile. His eyes are so fish-like and so dead, so deadly. All together in one single stare- a glance at Agent Theo Smith. The Herald of Dagon never bothers to hide his looks or affiliations. _Out of mind, out of heart..._

His dark eyes land on a figure with a dark feminine suit a high ponytail, and an eye-patch. She is giving final orders to the people using the jackets of Aftermath. “Don´t forget to erase our presence here after we´re done.” Her tone is firm as her single eye gives no room to arguments from her subordinates. And as the jackets are doing what must be done. “You´ll flatter me too much. I´m not sure if I can ever be Wonder-Woman. But thank you.” Sandra slowly turns to see Agent Theo Smith.

“Well, you´re Wonder-Woman to me,” he replies in a kind tone. It´s so much easier to ignore the eye of Dagon if Sandra is around. Out of the mind, out of heart. Dagon has a way to persuade if you are foolish to look into his eyes. Dagon is powerful ally if you follow his instructions, if not, Dagon can end you in less than a minute, after all, what are humans against the elder god? Nothing.

“The eye is no more, Theo.” Sandra begins explaining warmly. “Dagon got what he wanted and the same can be said for the city. There's no need to love these kids, Dagon only wanted them to be healthy.” Theo agrees silently. No one loves a fish-kid without receiving something in return. 

“Then...you'll love those kids. Is Dagon happy?” Theo asked now closer to Sandra. Her face holds a mixture of affection and pity direct to the last group of kids who are excited to leave the city- no one is complaining or wanting to escape. At the same time, no one is saying goodbye for those kids- And Sandra looks behind to see the ocean. Dagon is the Ocean. The ocean is Dagon. 

Dagon never asks anything you can´t give. If he wants more children the good townsfolk will supply, of course, a business transaction doesn´t need to have love. A woman can sleep with one of Dagon´s servants and think nothing of it. _Poor children_

“Yes, like I said. All he wants is for his kids' healthy. If the mother thinks the kid is a monster...it`s fine as long she doesn't harm the kid.” She frowns at that. “Old gods don't get emotional abuse or maybe don´t care.” Her hand so treacherously and so gingerly touches Theo´s hand.

“So, Dagon is happy.'' His tone is cool. His eyes look sideways for a brief moment- in his view, there's a brand new church appearing to be extremely expensive. Sighing, Theo speaks again. “What was the deal this time?”

“Money, as usual. You´ll see tomorrow or maybe in a few 2 days how this city will get such surge on strange and exotic marine life and many marine biologists would love to study those fishes. And of course, there´s the secret gold the city is hiding...but, the exotic fishes are a good cover,” Her tone is somewhat acerbic as she concludes. “It´s all about money. Dagon´s sons are more than happy to fuck and there´re always humans more than willing to sleep with fish-people for gold.”

  
  


One of the jackets is arriving near the couple. The man refuses to speak with Sandra, preferring to give the update to Theo. His eyes avoid Sandra as she´s Dagon. And Sandra is almost sad to say his reason is so pathetically human. Theo is not oblivious to this. Theo could say or do anything, instead, Sandra took the word. “Agent Rogers. I´m responsible for this operation...if you have doubts, ask me or our big boss...if not, please, do your job or we'll replace you.” Sandra´s tone is calm and the so-called Agent Rogers now look at her-up and down. With a face of begrudging acceptance, he leaves without saying anything.

“I can beat him up for you,” Theo says joking. Theo knows he's not joking and Sandra knows this as well. Her eyes are focused on him. Her hand patted his shoulder as she scowled him. One eye holds power and Theo can´t stop wonder about both eyes. Is Sandra an elder god and has to lower her own strenght to be among mortals or she is a fantastic actress to the point you too believe she´s bigger than she is? _Or maybe ...she´s both!_

“I´m Sandra. I´m Seer-Witch. I'm with the Aftermath for many times and one white man saying I´m cool won´t make certain members accept me...This is my fight. Mine alone. Understood?” While they're still holding hands, Theo offers a sincere apology.

Their foreheads gently touch. “Not very professional” Theo jokes. Sandra shushed him as the fish-people completely in their adult form are marching to go back to their houses. Sandra´s noticed how the weather is changing. How the Herald is swimming faster and how Dagon´s eye is no longer in the city. She frowns at that. “That was...fast…”

“That's what she says,” Theo jokes and earns a slap on his shoulder by a bemused Sandra. The weather is normal. Typical of a small city in England. And the vans are leaving with happy children. Sandra states again. “Dagon leaves too quickly…”Theo rolls his eyes too amused. 

“He's an old God. He has a bunch of kids...and soon the number will increase. I think he has more to do than watch at us. But, if he stayed any minute longer I would sing my love and devotion to you...then he would leave,” Theo teases and now Sandra rolls her normal eye.

“Yes, because your voice is terrible even for fishes.” Sandra states calmly letting go of his hand. And her single eye is trembling as Theo is on his knees, proposing to Sandara. Another agent arrives to see the scene on the sideway. 

The woman brace herself as the wind gentle touches her hair. The blushing is prominent on her lovely face and Theo can´t stop to see how his pose is a bit misgiving. _If I were to marry you, Sandra, would Dagon marry us?_

“In the past, a witch saved me. And bestow me with a gift. I spend time searching for the retribution...you don't ignore a witch. You don't refuse a gift” and gulping Theo continues feeling the blood coming to his cheeks and neck too. “I have a gift for you...a life for a life. If you gave me a part of yours...I'll give a part of mine.” He offers a shiny coin to Sandra with his open hand.

Sandra ghostly touches the coin until she fully takes it. Holding carefully near to her heart. “I didn't see this one coming,” she chortled. “You know what this means?” Theo nods but Sandra explains anyway. “Now your life belongs to me...I may not allow you to die in a stupid way.” the corner of her lips twist into a small smile.

Then her smile dies off. Still holding the coin she inquires something. “Theo, if you could save thousands of witches or just me. What would you do?” her tone is apprehensive while her eyes are still showing kindness.

“You, only you” his answer is immediate. Is answer without lie or shame. Theo looks up to Sandra with an unreliable expression and Theo still feels no shame for his question. Sandra´s minds travels miles and miles away or again, Sandra is a fantastic actress.

  
  


Sandra bites her lips still holding the coin and she declares. “A witch that turns her back to another witch is worse than scum…” She trails off looking away.

“Well, I´m here to see you. Those kids will be well-taken in Scotland and you can always make Harry Potter jokes with them.” Sandra sends the meanest glance a witch can offer. “Ok, moving on,” Theo feels sweat fall on his forehead. “I´ll go to the airport now. My cover is ready and…” he stops talking when Sandra puts her finger on his lips.

“While you´re babbling about Harry fucking Potter,” she doesn´t forgive easily, “I had a vision. I´ll go with you to Brasco. You´ll meet 3 kids and a bear. You suck to speak with kids...yes, they outsmart you and ...she will be there.” Her tone now is serious. “The one with many names and faces. Her actual name now is Merida, and you´ll need help.” Then, Sandra snaps her finger and one of the agents gives her the keys to a car.

Theo blinks and looks around. Normal people walking among the street. And not bothering when Theo exclaims one line. “Wait, Merida? Bear? Sandra, what the hell?”

_Who wouldn't want to go to England?!_

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“And well, I'm a bit knackered,” the woman explains with her firm hands on the steering wheel. The badge on her white blouse says, ‘’Hi, my name is Frankie Dawson.” And the car stops on the silent path. The woman rolls her eyes again, two times in a roll to enact how bored she truly is, and peeks at her silent companion pouting cutely for a minute until she speaks again. “Oh, fine. I´ll show you the Demon´s house of Terrin. I mean, Terrin is a city who has everything ...but if you want to see the Demon´s house...who am I to say no to you Mr. Darcy?” And her tone has a light chuckle. The man with his deep blue eyes, flawless white skin-no wrinkle, or acne. _There's a man who takes care of his body. Good!_ and has a strong built noticeable in his business suit, and an indigo hue that goes well with him, and his blond hair is well kept.

Mr. Darcy offers a charming smile. A handsome man smiling at you is always charming. “I'm sure,” Mr. Darcy sniggered, giving his attention to Frankie. “Tom´s pub is great, and we´ll go there...but, I'm really curious about the Demon´s house.” And while still seated, his finger points to the window on his side of the car to the 2 stores house with a forsaken garden, All windows and doors are locked.

The house is painted with a beige shade. Beige and black. One could see a pretty and liveable house in the past, but in this present, the house is nothing but the embodiment of “forsaken.” One can imagine macabre happenstances where murders and suicides are the final destinations. Not painting a good image for the house and at the same time increasing anyone´s curiosity.

Frankie waves her hand to dismiss him. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. And you´re so lucky I like you this much.” She makes a distance with her hands to illustrate her affection to Mr. Darcy. “And I´ll give you a sum up of this story. The real story. No demons here, I´m afraid.” She almost chuckles but her eyes - a nice and well-made mascara is perceptible - avoid the image entirely.

Both adults are out of the car. No one is coming closer to the house. There´re no eyes here. _Only the house_. And a house without an owner...is not a house. Just an empty space. Mr. Darcy looks straight to the closed gates of the house. Locked and jaded.

“Nothing supernatural here. It was a good old murder story.” Her saccharine tone lets her sarcasm shine naturally. “You see, a man named Arnold Smith brought this land and house, of course, Arnold had a wife, Elise Jones Smith. Lovely woman...I believe.” She halts her speaking to add, “My boss knew her. I never knew the poor woman.” Frankie shakes her head. Mr. Darcy remains silent as Frankie continues.

“She had 3 children. One day, the poor woman...brought an elegant mirror. And the husband was really against the mirror. Oh, no one would kill a person for a mirror...but fights began the moment she brought the mirror. One day, Arnold shot his wife and then himself.” Frankie looks serious at Mr. Darcy.

“What would happen to the kids?” 

“Two of them return to the house, for some reason. In the end, the older brother killed the younger. I guess insanity runs in the family. As for the third son...he was sent to Seychelle. And that is all I know…” Frankie concludes her tale. Mr. Darcy nods his head. His eyes are no longer blue. Instead, they are green and Frankie noticed.

Mr. Darcy raises his hand and speaks in such calm and at the same time, monotone way. “Frank, you´ll return to your car. Go to Tom's pub and have fun. You just suffered a prank. And you know this because...you don't have any friends called Mr. Darcy. Explain this to your boss.” Frankie´s eyes are so fixated on Mr. Darcy as her body is completely still. “Go, Frankie, go and never look back...there's nothing in this Demon´s house. Just another spooky house for terror tourism to milk.” Mr. Darcy concludes. Frankie goes to the car and is already leaving the state.

Mr. Darcy is no longer a Mr. anymore. “I'm here...you can open the door” her tone is insistent as the doors-the gate and the main door- are opening for the woman. 

**Another victim? Are you tired of your own miserable existence, Merida?**

“Not today, Karen.” The joke is clear and the darkness engulfs Merida as it is inside the house. “I´m not arrogant to think I can defeat you...I´m, however, strong enough to put an end on this prank.” And Merida´s fingers light with fire as her smirk grows.

_Who wants to live in a small city?_

___________________________________________________________________________________________

London airport has 3 floors to accommodate all the shops and agencies a person may need. Eyes can watch big brand names such as McDonalds, Macy, and many others. Yet, all eyes are on one lonesome figure. _All eyes on me...and only me_. Merida is the center of attention. An old lady scoffs at her presence and unceremoniously leaves in the opposite direction, and others follow suit.

The song singing on the speak box is a cover made by a British pop singer. A cover of the famous song ''All Eyes on Me'' from Marina Magalhães. And Merida is lucky the singer is using slangs that are way more common in the UK than Canada, because Merida clenches her mouth and massages her temples as the famous line of the famous song is hitting up all sides of the airport.

**All eyes on me.**

**All eyes on me.**

**You can't escape.**

**They watch me… and I watch them.**

  
  


Merida notices the assistants on clerk 2. The woman's eyes are looking side to side and she takes her cellphone and leaves her clerk with fast steps, and another woman takes charge and waves her hands at Merida, inviting Merida. “Welcome to London Airport. Hope you have enjoyed your stay here.” Her tone is polite and concluded with a nice grin. And thanks to the small mirror, the image of Mr. Darcy is gone. It’s a transaction of Mr. Darcy and Merida explaining a few things, making Merida sigh and ask for patience for Hecate and all the other Gods.

“My name is Amy Flowers,” she begins with a smirk playing on her triangle shaped face. Her eyes look at Merida´s without any malice. “I'm new here and loving every minute,” she states then asks -Merida swear she was muttering a to-do list- for her documents and passport. Merida only realizes her mistake when Amy is looking at the passport of Mr. Darcy and her eyes look at Merida for a moment.

“Ok. Do you have a name? According to the laws ...you don't need to inform your gender if you´re not ready. All we need is a name. Even if you don't have a legal name yet, you can sign X if you wish,” Amy explains kindly and gives the passport back. Merida looks at her reflection once again. _Oh...this is me now_ \- and Merida remains silent for a moment.

Until she speaks with a weak tone, but her eyes never show any signal of weakness, not even the cold sweat running through her back nor how her body feels lighter. Merida is too strong to stop now. as her hands rose to the hair preventing any more words from coming from Amy. “All I have with me is my name.” Her tone is sorrowful enough. “My name is Merida”

Amy nods and type in her computer for a solid minute and then validates her ticket. And speaks again. “ Oh, you´re going to Canada? Are you aware Leonardo DiCaprio is filming a new movie? A romance, I think. And Toronto is crowded because of that.” Her tone is still friendly, and Merida wonders if this is mere professionalism. The other assistant didn't seem to abide by this silent rule. Merida asks. “You´re being too kind with me...aiming to be the employee of the month?”

Amy´s eyes look down for a moment. Shaking her head she continues. “It´s because I have a sister...but my parents still think they have a son...I think a bit of love and compassion could do a tad bit of magic.” Amy declares as the song “All eyes on me” is on halt - a technical problem as a mechanical voice announced- making Merida scratches her neck. 

“Oh...that's nice” her tone is humble. Amy asks again about Toronto and doesn't hide how she looks forward to seeing this new movie. According to her, it is based on a book full of romance and magic, and Merida confesses she has no idea of this fact. “I'm not going to Toronto anyway.” She shrugs. “I´m returning to my home. Brasco...and your kindness will be repaid. I´m …” _a witch still_ “sure of that” 

_17 days for the Red festival._

And the TVs on display in some areas of the airport with urgent news. The anchor is a woman with a square face delivering some urgent news. “I just got the news that the famous Demon house is burning and no fireguards are able to reach the house. Tom, any news on this famous attraction?” 

The anchor shows signs of paying attention to someone else in the studio- her head nods vigorously causing her hairdo be a bit messy- and then shows more images of the fireguards and they´re unable to reach in time. And for bonus points, the camera linger on the faces of despair of Terrain´s people.

  
  


The image shows a man, possibly Tom, who is nodding and explaining the situation. “The fire is too intense...and no one is managing to stop the fire.” The camera shows some of the people looking at the house burning with shock. “We still have no idea how the fire begins”

  
  


_Uh, let the Aftermath deal with this..._

____________________________________________________________________________________

Red. Red and red until the eyes can handle. A large number of tourists, speaking in their own language here and there, are watching, admiring, and ogling the crimson ornaments and how Brasco is committed with red. All shops are using red as their skin and all eyes are on Brasco. All eyes are on a single soul walking towards the famous coffee shop-one of those that many tourists love to stop by- and is the only one not wearing anything remotely red. Sophie Summers has a bun. A white winter dress and a faux friendly expression as the tourists wave at her.

_I´m the First lady. I´m an actress...those things are not mutually exclusive._

And her eyes land on other figures not wearing anything remotely red. Maria Magalhães. She's wearing something akin to beige and is unimpressed by all the shades of red around her. Her eyes flick here and there noticing how even the waitress has to wear something red. Her lips twist down. Sophie sits in front of Maria. No more abundance of red in Maria´s views.

“So...people are getting crazier than last year. The Red festival.” Maria bites her lips as her eyes follow a group of tourists taking selfies with fake red flowers. “Something is different here...but, why are we here and don´t lie to me...you suck at that.” Maria warns lightly grinning slightly at her companion´s expression.

“Har har. I tried to play a trick on you once…” she pouts but shakes her head and goes back to the point. “We´re here because, one, the coffee here is better than yours. No, don´t look at me like that Maria...you put way too much sugar in the coffee.” Maria refuses to acknowledge that. And now her tone is quieter as the loud voices muffle her words naturally. All red, red and red. “No one will see us here.”

And Maria raises one eyebrow as she raises her cup high. “They don't see us for different reasons as well for not listening to us. The reason for not seeing or listening to me is the same in The US and in Brazil…” A sarcastic smile plays in her lips. “Brazil has no monopoly on racism ...yet” Sophie nods, not daring to deny her words. “But, you have a point”

Sophie then shows her cellphone. “I made some calls. Look, are you sure the person who delivers Adam is Sarah MCconey?” Her tone is firm, and Maria only nods, replying calmly. “I tried to forget that face...I even used my teas and it seems it makes her image more vividly in my mind” She is calm, but the way Maria gulps betrays the calm in her eyes.

“One of your teas? And you still remember this woman?” Sophie asked, and her question is only heard by Maria as the tourists are taking selfies. All eyes on them. Maria can nod and drink her coffee and decide it needs more sugar.

Sophie pales. “As I said, I made some calls. The person who was supposed to deliver Adam, Jen Walters,got a retirement worthy of a king.” Maria and Sophie exchange a look. “No one has contact with Jen Walters for a month. And now,the theory of cult is no longer a theory,but a reality.”

“But ok, legally speaking, how did that happen? You did talk and know this Jen Walters, right? How…” Maria inquiries and Sophie is quick to answer.

“It was all by the phone. I didn't think much at the time. She is a famous figure in Canada and the US. So, she couldn't come to Brasco that day to talk with me...the voice on the phone was Jen or I thought so.” Sophie's fingers trace the tablecloth red as everything else. “She was retired after a grandiose rescue of a kid that was the missing child of a very important family.” Her tone is suggestive enough.

“And this Sarah MCconey is a social worker?” Maria closes her eyes, already seeing the answer.

“No.”Sophie opens a link to Maria to see. A photo of Sarah MCconey just like Maria still recalls. “That is Sarah MCconey the allegedly social worker and also one of the richest women on Earth. She was part of an elite group.” Maria is focused on the image on the link. So similar to the real thing and gives the impression of Sarah gazing at Maria. “Said the elite group was arrested”

Maria is more than happy when Sophie scrolls down and show other things. Sarah´s photo is making Maria's skin crawl. “Maria, you´re a...wiccan, right?” The word witch is not easily used in this city and Sophie won´t ever test their luck or fate. 

Maria replies. “Yes, that´s the right term” and her eyes linger to the cafe a little longer. People are chatting, many beverages are being served and no one is paying attention to two women talking. A witch never test her luck as she can´t ever forget she´s a witch.

And Sophie closes her eyes and asks once opening her eyes again. “Many people want to harvest magic, many people want to control what they can't...but, what do you know about the Yoogie club?”

“It was an old cartoon...I think.” Maria jokes. “I saw it once, and I wanted to cut that bear´s hair ever since.”

“No, I think I´m saying the name wrong.” Sophie mulls and tries again. “Yog-Sothoth is the key, Yog-Sothoth is the answer. Maria...what the hell is this?” Sophie asks as the smile on Maria dies off.

“Let me put it this way. Wiccans believe in Hecate, in nature, in old Gods ...but we know to not bother to summon certain things...Yog-Sothoth is everything. Yog-Sothoth is nothing and if one tries to speak with something so beyond humanity...way beyond than all forces of Hecate...nothing good will come out,” Maria promises.

“Sarah MCconey was arrested and later committed suicide ...this was 2 months ago. Adam is here with you for 2 weeks now. So...again, what do we know about this cult?”

“Another question, why Brasco still holds a festival if the rate of a missing person is increasing?”

“One thing I can say...this will be our last Red festival.”

______________________________________________________________________________________

A smell of putrid scent is filling his nostrils. All eyes on me. All eyes on me. This line repeats over and over as the loner figure is in a temple- a temple devoid of any religious symbol or presence, but there´s an Altair waiting for this lonely figure- “I'm supposed to be here?” The figure walks slowly to the center of the Altair. “I'm here….I can't run anymore.” Tired eyes look down and up to see tendrils moving into his direction. Hands and tendrils alike. All eyes on him. All eyes on him.

**You're MINE now!**

And then Adam Smith wakes up, noticing his wet, puffy, and red eyes. His heart is beating faster, and sweat is running from his temple and back . His dark eyes glance at each corner of his corner. All darkness. All alone. “I want light.” His voice is light, and his breathing calms down once the lampshade near his bed has lights on. Adam didn't think much about it.

_Nightmares are nothing more than just nightmares. There´s no meaning behind it._

_I want a glass of water now…they wouldn´t mind..., right?_

Adam decides to leave his room, never once looking at his lampshade that is shining. Except, said lampshade is without the lamp. It broke this morning and Maria took out once Adam promised he would be fine without light. Adam never looks back and moves forwards.

________________________________________________________________________________

A lonely figure is approaching the Altair. There are no religious symbols in said Altair, except, the Altair is waiting for this lonely figure. Andthe figure is running towards its destination saying with a happy grin. “I'm here...I'm here.” He arrives in the center of the Altair as hands appear from below, gripping him, dragging him below. And then…

**You´re ...**

Isaac wakes up and looks at the darkness in his own room. “This will be the last Red festival, right, mother?” The pale figure of a woman patiently nods as her long fingers caress his head.

“That I promise you...Is the last festival...and then we´ll be free”

_I´m happy... the mother is happy._

________________________________________________________________________________________

Adam is halted in his moves. Maria Magalhães is in the kitchen looking in a pensive mood. Her hands are holding her face, and she is looking at nothing as her mind seems to be far away.Adam decides it is better to leave _She must want to be alone._ However, the step on the staircase makes a noise, and Maria turns to see Adam. “Adam? is everything ok?” She asked in concern. Adam stutters for a minute.

Until he took a deep breath. Why lie? “I had a nightmare...I want a glass of water. Are you busy?” His tone is curious as to his eyes. Maria noticed his still wet dark eyes. A soothing smile appears.

“I'm just thinking” _about cults._ Shaking her head Maria speaks again. “How about I make you a nice tea? I have many magical teas that help people...especially with nightmares,” she adds amused. “Candy must have told you...but, I say again, we´re witches. Wiccans!” Maria taps on her table amused as she starts to make a nice tea.

Adam raises one eyebrow and bites his inner cheek. “Candy told me. She told ...Hecate leads her to save me...she told me about the Mother of Magic...is it normal Hecate lead girls to save random boys?” His tone is joking but there´s curiosity.

As Maria has the tea- a Wiccan recipe. A nice potion that smells too good...maybe, that's why she calls them teas instead of potions. Adam looks at the golden liquid in front of him. “I think she has a plan for us then,” Maria states calmly. “But normally, she sends mothers to save children...Hecate is a mother after all. And mothers are there to protect kids…” She adds more serious. “And I'm here to protect you, Adam”

His mouth opens and closes. “I know...thank you”

_My mother would do that? Does it matter Maria fills this role more than an imaginary figure could._

____________________________________________________________________________________

Candy´s mint breath plays into his nostril as she comes too close and whispers into his ear. “Brace yourself, Adam...the school is coming.” She winks at him. And makes a spooky voice and doing a poor imitation of a ghost to Adam. The boy is scratching his eyes as the image of this school is getting confused in his mind and imagination.

Maria rolls her eyes at this dramatic gesture. “Candy, enough!” The young girl lets a cheeky smile play on her face as Adam is a bit confused. “Adam, if you don´t understand something,feel free to ask the teacher or to the cookie monster here.” She points to Candy, who nods solemnly at this.

Finally, the two kids travel into the unknown, as Candy sings to Adam who makes an improvised soundtrack to accompany her lyrics, and Maria waves at them. Silently she prayers _Please, Hecate... don't let anything bad happen to them._

Adam looks around. The courtyard is full of children muttering, exclaiming, and doing all sorts of noises. Yet, his dark eyes are searching for something in particular and give up once he didn't find it. “Where´s Isaac?” 

And his eyes linger a bit more along with Candy. Candy promised before they reach school how Isaac usually is waiting for her, however, right now there´s no signal of the blond boy.

Candy blinks and claps her hands together. “Oh yeah, I forget to mention. Isaac is busy since he's the son of the mayor and the Red festival is right around the corner…” she shrugs.

“Oh, what is this Red Festival about?” Adam asks, looking at the big ornament in the form of a scarlet rose carefully put in the center of the school so everyone can see it. _It’s all red until the eyes can see…_

Candy mulls over for a minute. “I´m not sure. I´m born here and still think is a dumb festival. Allegedly we celebrate the roses that bloom in the winter…” she bites her inner checks. “All the roses are gone and now all we have are crimson anemones ...sometimes” she begins uncertainly. “it seems as if those flowers are weeping,” she concludes, shaking her head. “Besides, which flower bloom in the winter?”

Adam responds in the same way. There’s a grin on his face as he whispers in her ear, “Many flowers blossom in winter like: Heathers, Japanese Quincy, and Daisies.” He flashes a smile to her bemused face.

“Sure, I know that,” she lies, “but look at those anemones and tell me if this is normal.” If she would explore her thoughts, well, a group of girls and boys arrives to greet Adam. And only Adam.

A pretty girl- with brown hair and blue eyes- appears to be the ringleader of the group. She has a box with chocolate she is sharing with friends. She introduces herself as Wanda Larox and her pretty smile is direct to Adam. “Hi, you must be Adam.” Her cheeks appear into a pink shade as she speaks. All eyes on Wanda and Adam. “I know you must be new to the school, so I made those chocolates to help…” she is bashful now and offers the chocolate. Only to Adam.

His dark eyes notice how crowded it is around him. All eyes on him. Yet, no one is talking with Candy who is on the other side of the courtyard now. No chocolate was offering to Candy.

Adam smiles politely and declines. “I already have something sweet with me, but, thank you and I'm liking Brasco very much. And I´m happy to participate in the Red festival.” He leaves the crowd and touches Candy´s back offering a kind smile as the two resumes the conversation.

Adam sees her cheeks reddish as the walk continues. _Never saw her blushing like that._

________________________________________________________________________________

A tall woman is marked by her own strength. Is a motto Lucia Karlom the headmistress of Brasco´s school believes with all her heart. Her eyes flick back and forth in the main corridor of the school to see red ornaments. (Thinking) Red, red, and red. We´re going under but we´ll go in great style….she liked this color. And her face shows her iron determination- as her hands' clunch a small medallion with a photo of a young girl wearing red and smiling cheeky.

_Can I ever see my daughter again?_

And a smell of cheap perfume- one anyone can find in any shop. Nothing fancy or terrible in the smell, except it was Lucia´s favorite perfume. Her eyes widens as she sees Samantha Karlom staring at her. Donning a red dress, her ginger hair is free of any hairstyle and her triangle face would be considered lovely. Samantha Karlom would be a beautiful woman- if not for it the sinister smile matching the dead eyes gazing at Lucia.

“How long are you going to use her face?” Lucia asked, feeling so weak. So hopeless Her eyes must face the creature. A witch must always look into the eyes. The eyes is where the souls are and the creature must have a soul, right? 

“I´m not the enemy and I´ll not stop you...you don´t need to torture me,” Lucia states with a ping of anger in her already tired voice.

Samanta walks- her high heels are making a loud sound in the flooring. Too similar to Lucia´s own sound- as her smile, too inhumane for such a pretty face continues. “You´re a terrible liar. No surprise here….you´re a witch that achieved what you did desire by lying…” Her voice is throaty. And adds in a faux soothing tone. “Now...repeat our greatest law…”

Lucia closes her eyes as her hands are shivering. “Any witch that turns their back to another witch is worse than scum.” Tears fall from her eyes. “Faya, I´m sorry. If you want to punish me...punish me, let her go.” She speaks to the ceiling, to the ground, and to the faux Samantha.

“She´s free now...well, freedom has many meanings to us,” Samantha replied. “You turn your back on Faya. You used our magic to have a pretty daughter to look normal...and now, you must pay the price.” The cruelest act begins. Samantha´s eyes are back to normal as she speaks in a chipper tone. “Mommy, I´m back!” She hugs Lucia as her own daughter used to do.

_A witch that turns her back against a witch is worse than scum. I´m sorry Faya. I´m sorry Samantha._

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Silence rules in this classroom.Wanda, the supposed ringleader, stops talking and is waiting like the rest- the teacher is in the room. Professor Amy Myrell is a slightly overweight woman with a low ponytail and dark hair. She's writing something on the blackboard “Red Festival in 15 days left.” Now, she´s addressing the classroom with a big grin on her face. All eyes on Adam. As Adam looks at the ornaments _all red, red, and red. I'm starting to dislike red._ “We have a new student. Adam, would you like to introduce yourself?” 

Introductions are not something Adam was prepared. _What I tell? What they will ask?_

Adam shakes his head, still smiling politely. “No thank you, I'm good here.” Some kids chuckle at this response and the teacher didn't seem to mind.

Amy Myrell then slaps her hands together. The grin on her face increases. _Is that natural?_ and she now speaks with such conviction and adoration. “Since we have a new student in our class, who can explain why we celebrate the Red festival?” Her eyes-small and free of any glasses- sure was looking at Wanda or any of her friends for the explanation. However, one hand is raised without care as a voice gives the explanation - Issac is in front of the blackboard and is more than ready to speak. Amy looks bemused.

The height difference between Amy and Isaac is noticeable. Not unexpected. “To make this short? Ok, it´s a holiday where we celebrate the death of the witches we killed when we arrive into this land...and when we burned the last one...we let loose a curse and this curse is killing us slowly and painfully.” Adam arches one eyebrows at this. Isaac waves his hand in dismissing. “Oh, and we have now pretty scarlet anemones.”

“Isaac!” the teacher said. Feeling powerless to stop 13 years old all of sudden. She's standing still. 

No one claps hands. Candy shakes her head amused. Adam claps his hand until he notices no one else was doing, and the teacher sits on her chair and gives the task for the classroom. All eyes on Isaac until there's no more.

_Is that normal? What´s normal in Brasco?_

Once the task was given- make ornaments for the Red festival- the classroom formed groups, and Candy took the initiative to put Adam and Issac, as well as her tables together. She is now drawing a nice flower. “Red flower!” she exclaimed happily. Issac is doing his draw and no one mentions how much red he's using. Nonetheless, Adam is looking at the piece of paper. _All red, I really hate red now. Why not something like...blue?_

And Adam is more than pleased to see blue paint and is drawing happily. Isaac and Candy stop their draws to look at the blue hue in his paper. “Where did you get blue paint?” and Adam shrugs off. Candy tries again. “Everyone only has red paint…”

“I'm lucky then…” His eyes study the draw and once give the final details to his friends. “What you guys think?”

“A blue anemone? Looks cool,” Candy states, nodding her head in approval. Isaac agrees. “Do you know what the red anemones mean?” Candy asked as she´s back to her work. Isaac says he does now and Adam shrugs off again. “In flower language, it means cry over a loved one you lost...When Aphrodite lost Adonis her tears turned into crimson anemones.” Candy´s mind travels to some uncomfortable conclusions _are we all crying in Brasco?_

Adam pontificated. “Blue anemones, however, are the symbol of intelligence, trust, and authority. So, we should make more blue flowers.” He jokes, and Candy offers a small smile. Isaac says he doesn't care much for flowers. Then he snaps his fingers - the sound is a bit loud causing the neighbor group to look funny at him - and he takes something out of his bag. 

“Hey, guess what? I got the first volume of the adventure of Lila” Candy is in cloud nine as she looks at the book. Their faces are a bit closer now - as much 3 chairs in a triangle formation can be- and once again Adam sees her reddish face. “Thank you, Sekel!”

Issac is blushing lightly, but to change the subject, he starts talking about roses and witches. Adam can see how much Isaac loves witches. And a bit of horror stories. “And we´re all crafting our home from the skeletons of witches.” Adam has to wonder if this is normal. Sadly, the other group is talking louder and each member is showing enthusiasm over the topic.

“Did you see that movie?! The ending got me completely off guard!” one of the boys whispers a bit loud. And the others agreed. Pencils and pens are causing the usual noise as the conversation continues.

“I know...like, I was sure they would play safe...but, man...they really burned the witch. It was so glorious.”

“I know!”

“It was so real!”

“Serves her right. One of the most satisfying villains' death ever.”

“The witch deserves to die!”

And this line is the one making Isaac drop his paint on the floor and rose from his chair to go where the boy who declared loudly ‘’the witch deserves to die’’ is. Isaac has no shame in pulling the boy´s collar and looks as menacing as possible. “Take back!” 

Adam stops his art and slowly but surely watches the scene unfolds. Isaac didn´t seems one to be ready to fight, then again, Adam meet him so recently and Adam himself knows so little about his own origins. _Not that I want to know..._

Of course, the boy looks confused and angry at this. “What the fuck, Summers?”

Adam watches as the teacher is too busy reading her magazine. Leonardo DiCaprio is starring another romance and is based on a very popular novel- to even care. Adam rose from his chair- all eyes on Adam. And he starts to hate it- as the boy lifts his hands to both sides and says. “Stop, let's all calm down”

And everyone in the classroom is calm. Wanda, who was drawing in a nervous manner- she hates drawing- suddenly feels at peace for some reason. And the boy and Isaac are halted in their positions looking as calm as they can.

Adam Smith smiles politely again for what seems an eternity and talks with the boy. “What's your name?” and the boy responds as being Gregory Jones. “Nice to meet you.” Gregory nods and his face change to a soft pink hue. “My friend here likes witches too much and he shouldn't have bothered you.” Gregory nods again. Adam´s dark eyes go to Isaac. “But, not everyone likes to hear about movies about witches dying...can you be mindful next time?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“You won't cause any problem to Isaac, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Good, I´ll take this hothead here to the bathroom.” He waves at Gregory and all eyes are on Adam again. He took Isaac´s pulse and leaves the room. The teacher's face is hidden behind the magazine. Again, everyone is so focused on this new upcoming movie...

____________________________________________________________________________________

The bathroom is empty. No eyes on Adam and he's thankful for that. His eyes look up to see a considerable number of vines of red flowers blossoming. Adam chooses to ignore the damn red flowers and looks at Isaac now. Isaac can´t be ignored. “Your hands are covered in blood.” Adam scowls and Isaac looks utterly dumbfounded until Adam is forced to show his own hands to his friend. “Ahhhh, right...I thought you bring me here to talk about magic flowers again.”

_Magic flowers? Whatever..._

“I´d have bloody hands now,” Isaac jokes and adds. “This one doesn´t come out easily.” Adam rolls his eyes as with a bit of water, towel, and determination the paint is already out of his hand.

“Dude, you have magic hands? Are you the missing son of Mr. Cleaner?” 

“I doubt very much...I´m not bald nor I want to be bald.” Adam replies and asks seriously. “What´s your problem with witches? Gregory could have punched you and ...I think it would have broken your nose,” he adds. “Who is this Burned Witch and what's she to you?”

“Oh, Candy told you.” 

“Maybe,” Adam lies.

Issac with his cleaning hands looks at the crimson anemones as his eyes look forlorn. “Look,” he declared. “I care because no one will. People call her Burned Witch and treat her as she was a boogie man. No one even knows her name is Faya. I care because I can´t help to wonder...if I die, if my body rots and my soul is stuck in limbo for all eternity, I would like someone to know my name.”

Adam let this answer sinks in. “There are many media where witches die or are the villains, are you going to fight everyone who likes those stories?” His tone is curious. “And you haven't answered me what this Faya woman means to you…”

And Isaac speaks again. “Why all the stories show the witches dying or as villains…” his tone is as he's about to cry and Adam won´t pressure this subject for today. Which Adam will consider this as a win,at least for now. _Count your luck, Adam._

“You know...Harry Potter is popular and I think no witch there dies...I think.” Adam tries to amend and Isaac chuckles snorting a little.

“Harry Potter doesn't count, and I hate it. No respect for divination.”

“Ok then...now go on, clean your face...or people will think I break up with you.” Adam jokes and Isaac shows his tongue at him. A mature response that is meet with an equal mature reply. Adam´s tongue is pinkies and is different from Isaac that is completely red.

As the boy is cleaning his face it is impossible to not mention this. “You know, Adam...I have a gift. Candy has one and now...you have a gift too. 3 is a powerful number”

Adam blinks. “Behold my power. I can clean hands. Heaven and hell tremble before me.” He fakes a peal of maniacal laughter.

“Don´t be a jerk, Adam...we're having a moment. I know you have magic!” Isaac states. “And maybe that's the reason for you to be here.”

“Ok, sounds legit. I know nothing about me...who knows? Maybe I´m the long lost son of Merlin...I'm serious, any possibility is possible,” Adam said half-serious, half-joking, and maybe Isaac would go on a tangent about witches and powers.

“What you did in the classroom was...pure magic…” he begins but is cut short as Candy's scream is heard. Arriving in the classroom Candy points to where the professor used to be. The magazine-with a big picture of Leonard DiCaprio still remains- but the body of the professor Amy Myrell is replaced by her weight in flowers. Crimson flowers.

Only Candy is visibly disturbed by the scene. The others are calmly drawing or talking, just like Adam ordered.

  
  



	5. Part 5

N/A: Here I hope to NOW start to deep in the horror. I hope.

Jet lag is one of the major concerns when you take a long flight. Even businessmen and businesswomen aren't immune to this phenomenon.Eyes are in a constant battle against sleep as well facing the desire to complete their task that leave them to travel, yet blue eyes roam left and right - all eyes. All eyes on the screens of every size are ignorant to all the other eyes, and giddy voices are happily exclaiming about Leonard DiCaprio's newest romantic role. “I heard the movie will have a different ending from the book.” Blue eyes return to the shining and well-polished window admiring her own reflection. Merida has no jet-lag. 

If it is daytime in Canada, she's perfectly fine. Merida, however, can admire her reflection for years and still feel the whiplash.  _ Pretty blondes are the norm...until brunettes are better and considering how the trend is changing...I must change as well. _

One fact often overlooked about Brasco, among its own history, is how dependable they´re with Quebec. Not by choice. If you wish to visit Brasco and the famous Red Festival- as many people did and will do in the future - you must arrive in Quebec first and then take a cab from there. Many tourism agencies include a few days in Brasco for those who want to travel through the big cities of Canada. If Quebec ever decides to close their “friendship,” Brasco will be facing some problems.  _ In a way, this can´t even be called Cain and Abel´s scenario... _

  
  


Merida has blonde hair- a honey blonde type with natural curls, a small nose, and of course, blue eyes. How many pretty blondes do you see daily? How many blondes you would dare to bet are real? She is wearing something far too feminine. No one would glance at her, she's not even the prettiest blonde in the room. Just another face. Just another pair of eyes watching.

Taking a cab to Quebec and then to Brasco was a mute journey. The driver put a loud song to fill the void. Merida has no room to complain, and her answers are short and direct. At the same time, the woman wants nothing more than a beer...and the driver can't put the image of a pretty blonde with blue eyes being so interested in beer as Merida did present herself with. “Brasco is a lovely city,” the driver initiates another talk. “I heard the flowers are lovely. Some couples even go there to marry.” 

Swallowing hard, as her tongue is dry, and all her mind can conjure is an ice beverage to cool down. In fact, Merida can collect all the brands in her mind and even the cheapest beer would be enough.

And Merida can respond to all this information with one line. “God, I want a beer so much right now,” and the driver gives up.

The roads to Brasco are coming into view.  _ Still want that beer _ . Brasco has all the charm of a small city in Canada. Merida noticed the lands used for agriculture and the lack of workers as well, a lovely community where everyone is so united. Where many sitcoms would use to show how quirky and wonderful it is. At the same time, Brasco has all the drawbacks of a small city. _ The prejudice _ , the cult-like mentality, and of course, shitty beer.

Merida is tapping on the window of the cab. The sounds are changing as the car is approaching the main gates of the city. Her eyes go foggy to focus, and she lets her breathing go. Massaging her temples and closing her eyes for a minute.  _ Ok, I´m here now. Fuck caution. _ “Ok. Stop.” Her voice is monotone, and the driver did as she requested. His eyes are wide and his body is rigid. A doll waiting for instructions. 

It is almost comical that the radio is still working and is playing the famous song “All eyes on me,” repeating the same encore, as if mocking Merida. Maybe, if her paranoia can speak for a few seconds...the song is mocking her.

Merida steps out of the car. The gate of Brasco is a bit closer. It would take at most 10 minutes to reach it.The gates always open to a pretty blonde woman with blue eyes. The gates open once and never again. “Thank you for coming here. There's no need to let the fox fill with more hens. Go back to Quebec, and if anyone requests a ride here...Brasco is closed...time for renovations.” This is the command that the driver took by heart. He has no choice.  _ They never do. _

Brasco is lovely. No doubt of that. The green seems untouched by human hands- or human hands have no right to touch it- and the sky is devoid of any cloud. It’s a pretty image for sure, yet Merida´s body shivers as she hugs herself and begins to walk to the gate. Each step seems heavier than the previous one and the pretty scene of the green and blue are slowly being replaced by nothing, literally. Just white, and white is nothing.

  
  


**_And we´ll always come back to nothing._ **

**_You´re in nothing._ **

**_You´re nothing._ **

She closes her eyes for a moment. Mulling her options, as tendrils are emerging from the ground and hugging her calf, gingerly touching. Growing in size and watching. Always watching. Merida can swallow and offers a smirk at the nothing, her eyes avoid to look down, and she can feel her own heart beating as if it is revolting against her ribcage. “Faya. Come on, we´re among friends here. You can show up now…” She narrows her eyes. “I drove my ass to this shitty town. You better show your ugly mug NOW.”

5 fingers wrapped around Merida´s neck, not wrapping harder. It is more like ghosting over her neck, and Merida can feel it too well, as blue eyes look to the side to see the serene expression of Faya. The burned witch. “Different faces, but, the same attitude.” Her expression remains calm. If you´re holding or touching someone's neck...you would like to do it in a tranquil way. Her eyes are dark as her skin is unnaturally pale. Snow White is only a beauty if you perceive her as a fragile human. “I thought you hate blondes with blue eyes.”

And Merida can chuckle nervously. “Blondes can be useful. No one pays much attention to a plain blonde. And you? Enjoying terrorizing people in Brasco? Bet you must love to give nightmares to people...you were always a nightmare when you were alive…” The hands let go of the neck.

The tentacles and Faya are one thing. Faya was burned to death. Faya is also here speaking with Merida once again. “Are you here to save Brasco from the big bad witch?” Her uncanny face is devoid of any emotion. Only a serenity that may or may not be real.

“Look...I hate Brasco as much as you do. I'm a witch, am I not?” she replies looking at Faya. “Yet...I'm here to …” she closes her own hand in a fist and refuses to stutter. Refuses to feel fear. Even if she´s failing. “To save people...I did stupid things in my past. I lead innocent people to their death, and it haunts me ever since. I want...redemption and if I can, if I managed to save at least one good soul from you...maybe...it will be enough.” Merida concludes as Faya is staring at her.

“Different faces, same attitude.” She parrots her own words to Merida. “Now, tell me...how you´ll achieve such a feature?” She grins at Merida. Such composure and friendly way. So unfair...she would prefer if this was a horror novel where the monster gives a burst of maniacal laughter to the heroine. “You never managed to save me ...or Beatrice.”

And Merida can only sigh in defeat. “I made mistakes...I should have stayed here to help. Many bad things happened in the past...I got it, and you want revenge. I failed you...but, I´ll not fail again.” And if it was a horror novel, the monster would kill the heroine and it would open space to a sequel or not, but right now in the nothing with Faya...the creature only looks sad at this.

“If you think there's anyone here in Brasco worth your time...waste your time, even if you managed to stop me...you'll have another problem to face.” And her face now twisted in a wide grin. Merida is confused and shows that through her entire body language. What could be worse than Faya´s curse? Nothing could stop murdering kids. “I´ll tell you a secret...just between us girls...Yog Sothoth is the key. Yog Sothoth is the door and Yog Sothoth is everything. The antichrist is the answer and it is walking among this city.” 

And Merida knows Faya is no liar. Faya can be many bad things, however, a liar is not one of them. If Yog-Sothoth is involved, if the Antichrist is here...Then Merida can only harden her expression and refuse to show anything but pure determination. A witch must be brave. A witch must look people in the eyes because the soul and everything has a soul. Even Faya.

  
  


“I´ll think of something...I always do...and I'll save those souls,” Merida promised to Faya and to herself.

“Even if they aren't worth it?” and Merida nods 

“And...I'll save you...” Now Faya looks perplexed. 

“Why?” is the only question this creature ever made without a serene expression. The smell of brimstone is hitting Merida´s nose along with the smell of burning flesh. Merida can close her eyes and have a clear image of what happened. She can feel the pain, and her blue eyes can still view Faya. Not the flames.

“Because ...I failed with you. I loved you. You´re my family. And I...couldn't save you or Beatrice...and I want redemption for that, at least, I want to do something good for you...for the family, we used to be.” Merida promises again as the tendrils step away from her.

“I'm not here to blame you...”

“And yet...I still carry the blame, my dear sister, so...fuck off, I´ll enter in this shitty city and save at least one soul and YOU or I´ll die trying.” She promised with a tone of finality. Faya steps away and nothing is gone. It’s now replaced by the small office where two cops are attending the new tourists. Everyone can enter Brasco...No one exits so easily.

Merida is on a queue behind another blonde woman with long hair who is too giddy in being Brasco. “I heard the flowers here are to die for,” she says to her friend who has raven hair and both seem to agree the flowers are really to die for. “Jerry was here last year and asked Mary´s hand ...so romantic.” And while ignoring the conversation, Merida noticed a small mirror in the office room- displaying the reflection of everyone and is well-polished with a few sticks here and there- allowing Merida to see her face.

Her hair is red and in a pixie cut. Her nose is the turned-up nose. Her clothes are not so traditionally feminine-long gone is the pretty dress she was donning before the nothing- beige pants and an orange sweater. And dark eyes. No freckles through.

**_Different faces, same attitude. Eh?_ **

_ Maybe...I can really save you, Faya. _

And her musings are cutting short as a guard is snapping his fat fingers in front of her. Merida´s eyes are leaking water aka crying and some people took notice. Eyes on her. Always. “Oi, are you with us?” His tone is flat and his yellow smile is too on the nose. The guard takes a step back ever so slightly. Merida really loves this look right now. Once the bureaucracy is done, Merida is granted access to the city.

Brasco has all the charm of a small city in Canada and all the drawbacks in the world. One can enter Brasco without many legal problems. Leaving, however, is another story entirely and Merida can feel her mouth and lips dry as she has to sign her name to once again enter Brasco. 

_ I´m sorry and I´ll save them, my friend… _

“We check it.” The guard looks at his companion who nods as to testify everything is ok. And as she hands the ID to Merida she offers a friendly smile. “Welcome to Brasco. Enjoy your staying here...this Red Festival will be unique”

“I sure hope so,” she adds. “And I hope there´re beers.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The main office in the school has a different atmosphere. If one is well-read in Agatha Christie's novel, it will have the feeling to be transported to one of the many mysteries of the author. At the same time, who really knows Agatha Christie can see how this room is also designed to be a bit more opulence than the rest. Isn't that a bit telling too much? If your office is so “rich” wouldn't that make the others feel insecure to have a word with the headmistress. Even so, Lucia Karlom rests her face on her graceful hands. Let the shadows do the rest.

_ Isn't that what caused the first problem? _

One can always reel back and forth in many situations and use the what-if. A dangerous thing to do. How many times can you use what-if and remain sane? Actually, what’s sanity in Brasco nowadays? Wouldn't that be a dangerous question itself? If you accumulate more questions than answers...it only means you're human.

The room in itself is not very light. the idea of the design here is to use more the light of the sun than electric. Even though the sun is shining enough, even in the winter,the light is not strong to dissipate all the darkness. _ What would be?  _ Her eyes are unfocused. Her hair slowly comes undone and her white as snow hair is now loose.

Samantha, for all purposes and meanings, is back to Brasco. Lovely as ever. Pretty as a muse should be or better, pretty as sin. And Lucia can testify how true those words are. Samantha Karlom is beautiful. Samantha Karlom is a sight to behold, and Samantha Karlom is dead and nothing more than a mask for a creature to wear. _ If a witch turns her back on another witch...she´s scum. I’m worse than scum… _

  
  


The dance the darkness presents is nothing new. No light can touch it. And Lucia can feel the pull of a friendly hand-or tentacle or whatever THEY may use it. It stops being relevant after time, as a rough voice speaks in her mind. And Lucia listens carefully, as one should in the dark.

**Isn't it unfair?** **Brasco and all the others often praise motherhood as the biggest achievement of a woman, and yet, here are you! Break the rules for your daughter. A sickly and ugly child ...cheat death and make your daughter such a beauty. But...they made you be a monster. You´re no monster, my dear. Just a mother.**

_ Yes, I´m just a mother. I only wanted to protect Samantha...and I failed. _

**It doesn't need to be this way. You can bring her back. You can fix this mistake...you can make them pay. You have the grimoire. You can change things…**

And Lucia doesn't recall opening the drawer where the book was, but she can see the book in front of her- tentacles or hands?- and she holds the book with all her forces. 

_ I can´t…. _

**Why not? Faya had no problem in using her power to create a curse...She took your lovely girl...She needs to suffer. You can make this pain go away...just like she did. Aren't you a witch?**

“I'm a witch,” Lucia states to no one. Lucia’s fingers are tracing the spell. The book is already open on the right spell she must use, and her lips are ready to open to utter the words. However, her eyes caught the sight of a little girl in a swing, red hair and pigtails waving at the camera. Waving eternally, and she froze in time.

“I can make them all suffer even more…” She closes her eyes. She can still recall her daughter and all the sunflowers she loved so much. “Then what type of person would I be? How can I inflict more pain in this town and say it was in the name of love?”

**Oh, why not? There's no one on your side anymore… Why not use your spells. Why not?**

And Lucia has no arguments to make here. Why not? What she can lose here? 

And those words are so easy to say.

It would take more than a minute or two to recite those ancient words. Lucia is sure of that. Yet, as her mouths is itching to say the words. As her mind is even visualizing the outcome. Lucia was prevent to utter any word as a child´s scream runs strong in her office.

It was the reality check needed for Lucia to throw the Grimoire away. “NO. I'll not do it.” And her eyes are watery. Again.

  
  


The voice only laughs and concludes with one final line.

**So, you think you can love the creature that wears your daughter's face? How hilarious… Well, as I´m amused at your suffering. let me give a piece of small information… Remember that only legend of the Antichrist? Well, who says it’s only a legend… He shall raise and control everything, and you or dear Faya are nothing against him.**

  
  
  


“He? Wait...where is the Antichrist?” she inquired, urgently looking at the darkness. All she got is silence.  _ If the Antichrist is here roaming among us...what can we do? All hope is los _ t… Then she looks at the photo of her daughter one last time. “If he's here...then I'll have to do something...if not for me...for you, Sammy.” She runs away from the office in direction to the scream.

Brasco is a bad omen. Brasco now will be in the omen´s plot or maybe...it is much worse than that.

___________________________________________________________________________________

  
  
  


If Adam had any autonomy to pick where he would show up-and that would be another can of worms he purposely avoids- he wouldn't ever pick Brasco for a number of reasons, but as his lips tight and his eyes inspect the scene...the number of reasons is increasing. Isaac is the one to take Candy out of the classroom and calm her down. A hug seems more than adequate for this situation, and Adam watches from afar. The hug and the students drawing blood roses and ignoring the flowery sculpture of the once teacher. _ This city is so messed up… _

A garden statue usually takes a couple of hours to be ready or sometimes, depending on the artistic vision, it could take a couple more days. To do a replica of a person with flowers takes some time, yet in the classroom, there's a statue of a teacher watching the students crafting more ornaments to the Red festival.

Issac is the one to offer a big hug to Candy as the girl is breathing in and out. Her hair is wilder than ever and hiding her face like a curtain. Once she´s more stable -if is possible to measure such a thing after everything- Isaac is filling the gaps and Candy´s eyes shine shaking a little as her eyes avoid meeting the frame of the classroom's door. “Adam...you have magic powers too?” Her tone is hopeful and Adam is sending a mildly bemused look at Isaac.

“Look!” Adam commences amicable. “I´ve no magic powers...All I did was make sure the blond over there,” he points to Isaac, who in turn is too amused. One could say Isaac is being wicked, and the fact he’s doing a shushed pose doesn´t help his case. “It wasn´t magic! Gregory was dead set in punching his face...but I managed to calm him.” Adam winced because it seems his own words are contradictory. No one points this one out.

Candy bites her inner cheek and breaks the hug to stare down Adam. “Are you sure? Because...remember that talk we had?” Her question has a tone of confidentiality, but Isaac seems to know what they're talking about or he's pretending very well. Adam can´t tell if Isaac is a good actor or a good spy. “Hecate has a plan...something brought you here...and there´s power in 3”

“And let's not forget…” Isaac pipes in. “They´re all drawing as you request...no one is taking their eyes off their art” Isaac is watching a group of girls near the open door doing their arts mutely and with eyes only on red and paper.

Adam didn't comment on that. Candy responds by closing the door quickly. Her eyes turn to his dark eyes and she bites her inner lips and then confesses her idea. “Look, you have no past as far you know.” Adam frowns at that. “You arrived at Brasco in the strangest way possible, and you´re living with me and my mom...There's something going on here…”

Adam would like to point out how none of this means anything. Instead, he tries to be level headed. “Ok, I had no idea about my past...nor do I want to, but, let's say magic is real and I have, hypothetically speaking, a magic power, so...what? Should we go to Hogwarts and defeat Voldemort?” His sarcasm is palpable much to Candy´s dismay and Isaac´s annoyance.

Candy marches forward and holds his hands strongly as her brown eyes stare at his dark ones. Refusing to be ignored- as if she could be ignored- she tries again. “My point is, Adam, you´re here for a reason. Brasco is a strange place. Things are happening, and no one is doing anything...it´s our duty to stop it” Adam stares at her. It´s a chilling sensation because his eyes, for the first time, lack any warmth and tenderness.

“Why us?” His tone is icy, and Candy is gritting her teeth at such questions. Her answer is once again to repeat how they have powers and is their mission to stop whatever is happening or else they may be the next ones. Isaac is too quiet now. Adam slowly breaks away from her grasp and states, “So...you think we should play Scooby-Doo with things we don´t understand for no reason? I think…” his eyes look to the corners of the door with such wide and fearful expression. “I think whatever is happening is nothing to do with us and if you want to drag someone to this plot...take him” He points to Isaac, who is not shying away.

“Adam!” she tries again but the boy steps away from her. “Adam! This could be related to your past.” Now, the other boy grit his teeth and closes his fists and says one thing. 

One sentence to end the discussion. “I’d not want to hear anything about my past or curse...I'm not going to join and you shouldn't either.”Isaac tries to say something - either something eloquent or something 100% childlike will remain to be speculated- because Candy screams again and points to the door. 

“FIRE!” 

And luckily for everyone. Lucia Karlom arrived in a nick of time with a fire extinguisher.The fire was enough to make the kids break from the trance of their artistic, and hell breaks loose. All the while Candy, Isaac, and Adam are far away from each other.

Lucia Karlom is the first to notice the statue and asks where the teacher is. No one replies. “Where is your teacher?” she asked again and soon a combination of “I don´t know” and “Do we have the free day” along with “How the door burned?” are added, but only Candy´s voice runs the others voices. 

“She’s a flower now.”Candy points to the statue. Lucia for her part looks too composed.  _ all adults lie...and I'm tired of this _ . Lucia then set everyone free. Classes are canceled and she can always blame the Red festival for that.

_ will be the last one. _

Adam, Isaac, plus Candy aren't surprised to see Maria and Sophie waiting for them. However, the adults are surprised to see Adam, Candy including Isaac with sullen expressions.  _ Kids often fight...nothing serious. _

Sophie has a big grin on her face. “Isaac, Candy...did you know? This year more couples are getting married here!” The two exchanged a stare. 

“And, tia Sophie,” Candy begins. “How can they get married if we don't have a church?”

“Oh, they married in the civil, of course, but our roses are very romantic and well, not every couple can marry in a big church”

“Mom, they´re anemones and they´re very deadly.”

Meanwhile, Maria and Adam are away from the group. The older woman puts her hand on his shoulder and asks. “Adam, can we talk?” The boy only nods as it is clear Candy has no reason to talk to him anymore.  _ I´m not after the past. I have the present and the future. _

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Camaraderie is one of the strongest points of Brasco. A community so tightly united is bound to form friendships, and so is the case with Titus Summers and Cherif Duncan. Duncan has his quirks. The man loves to write things in his notebook or in whatever piece of paper he can find. A form of Epomonia that many noticed and many didn't care. It´s a strong community built on love and support. It was never a problem for Titus. Why would it be? Brasco is built on love. And as the mayor of this lovely city is hunchback breathing in and out. All one can say is how their friendship is strong.

A man and woman are in their backyard tending their garden. Or so would seem if you only look for one second, but if you dare to pay attention you would see how the movements of this couple are too lethargic. How the simplest words are too hard to be spoken, and how there's a clowder meowing louder inside their own house. Mind you, the man and woman´s skins are sullow and a bit reddish. “Those are Martha Curlem and John Curlem,” Sheriff Duncan stated the obvious while his dear friend is on the ground. “The number of cats increased since last night….” He trails off as Titus rises from the ground.

“They're drooling...again.” His tone has resignation and despair laced together. One of the cats opens back to the house. Titus´s blue eyes can see one of them trying to enter his own house, and the impulse of killing the feline is great, but Sophie loves cats. Beatrice always wanted one. Martha and John Curlem have difficulty completely closing their mouths. No one offers help through. “Is God punishing me? Did I fail him?” Titus inquires nervously as his eyes only glare at the poor figures. His legs are rooted on the spot and his back doesn´t allow him to see Duncan's face. A good friend always beams. Always in Brasco.

Duncan´s voice is often pleasant. It must be. He's the sheriff of this lovely town. “Why do you still hold on the name of an invisible friend when I'm right here?” Duncan jokes, still avoiding looking at the couple. Their lethargic movements are putting on a halt when Martha is in front of John, and she has no idea how to continue any move. No help is given. “My friend, you´re the mayor of this fine town. You´re the pillar of justice...God, is nothing but a block you move...a fictional character that brings nothing to this city. Nothing, eh.” Titus can see Duncan´s bright smile. So bright and full of hope. Titus can rise from the ground if only to reach the light of a sad smile.

The mayor nods absently while throwing some pebbles away with his foot. “I did many things for this city. For my family...and sometimes, I wonder if I did the right thing. I...have so many doubts.” Titus inhales and massages his right shoulder for 2 minutes. “Why are Curlems like this? Why does their son vanish like that? Why is Roselands a wasteland now? I ...don't know what to do anymore,” Titus confesses with his eyes see-sighting everything but the Curlems. Duncan has such a bright smile and such a soothing aura. Oh, how Titus is fortunate to have such a friend on his side.

“It’s nothing about God. It’s all about actions. The Curlems lost their baby boy, as they once claimed, and now guilty is consuming them...their little boy preferred to be with an aunt over them, and well, they took this poorly.” Titus looks at Duncan confused.  _ Aunt? Wasn´t the kid missing and presumed dead? _ But Duncan wink at him and Titus didn't dare to think much about, who knows? Sometimes, kids prefer aunties over parents. “You did the right calls in the stressful situations...The church never helps and never will.” Titus agrees completely.

“Yeah...the church never helped when my...sister…” His eyes are forcibly shut. The words didn't leave his mouth nor are needed. Duncan only pats his shoulder and comments on how that was a wise decision on his part and how he laments about his sister´s fate. Beatrice will never be forgotten.

“They claim to know about love, yet refuse to see real love.” Duncan shakes his head vehemently. “All you do is for love, Titus, and that's one of the most amazing facts about you. Love is the answer.” The grin gets wider. “Everyone talks about love and how cute it is...but no one talks about what a man must do to protect the ones he loves.”

Oh, Titus knows about that. He did everything for Beatrice. He did everything to the woman he loved. Oh, he'll do everything for Sophie as well. Still, Titus can´t help to continue his confession. “Sometimes, I pity that poor creature. That woman...if she was human at all, I was...maybe, too harsh in burning her...but, you see, Beatrice, my only sister was taken from me and ...she was breathing and not my dear Bea.” Titus concludes, and Duncan hears him and offers no judgment.

“That witch had come. She seduces your dear Beatrice...and maybe, forgive me for saying this, but maybe death was the kind outcome for that witch...Gods know what she would have done if she was alive.” Titus can't agree or disagree. His silence indicates nothing. Duncan´s grin remains. What a loyal friend.

“But, let's leave the past where it should be...in the past. Tell me more about your present, my friend. Don´t you love dear Sophie?” The question makes Titus anxious. More pebbles were thrown and his hands are now in his pockets- and the grin remains. “She’s a pretty and smart woman…”

“She is too similar to Beatrice...I never talk about my sister with her,” Titus adds. Duncan doesn´t pry.

“And as a friend, I must warn you about some of your wife´s activities.” Now, Titus snaps his eyes at him. Oh, the wrong choice of words. A sheriff saying those words usually means infidelity, but Sophie is too loyal for that. Lying is a sin. “I mean, she created that little group to help locate the missings children and now is considering there's a cult,” his tone is full of disbelief, “that is living in the forest and wants to inspect...I thought you should know.”

“WHAT?!” Titus screams loudly. Too loudly to make one of the cats gaze at him. To make the Curlems finally sense his presence. “The hell she will. I forbid anyone to enter that cursed forest!”

Duncan sighs in relief. “Oh glad to see we´re on the same page. You should talk with your wife, my friend, stop her from going to the forest...and stop this little group...She´ll only get hurt in the end.”

_ All the women in my life are woven with pain somehow. _

“No one will enter that forest,” Titus repeats, and it is an order. “ How could she even think such a thing? After what happened to Bea?”

“Does she know about Faya?”

_ No, never. _

“Of course not. Your wife and son don't need to know about that creature.” Oh that reassuring grin. Titus has the best of friends on his side.

No judgment here. Duncan has a knowing gaze into his eyes. Titus´s silence speaks volume, and the two men are now in silence. The Curlems are still trying to walk and now, of all times, serves as a great distraction. “What can we do with them?”  _ No one comes forward. This aunt can show up? Nah, I doubt it. _

And Duncan, the faithful Sheriff of Brasco has a plan. He has a big grin showing his fangs and really, Titus is lucky to have him on his side. “I have an idea, but you must have an open mind.” Titus listens as always. Too intricated on Duncan's words-so mesmerized and so soothing as always should be- to ever notice the eyes and fangs anymore. Not that ever matters now.

_________________________________________________________________________________

The typical image of a happy couple is not completely inclusive, as some conservatives would love to brag. Sandra notices some of the glares some of the staff members of the hostel are giving her. A man as handsome as Theo usually would be seen with a more “feminine” woman, yet Sandra is donning a female suit and is a tad bit wrinkled. Her hair is in a perfect ponytail, and her eyepatch remains on. Thus, Sandra's resting bitch face appears as Theo Smith is the social butterfly in the lounge as they´re making sure their reservations are alright.

_ Thank Hecate for technology. _

“Your room is 333.” Sandra´s mouth right corner twists below. The receptionist handles the keys and offers to take their luggage. Theo stops them, saying their luggage is personal. Newlyweds want to have their privacy. Sandra holds his arms and offers a small grin,too akin to how a cat should give if he had the ability, and no one suggests anything else.

Once the pieces of luggage are in their room, the newly-wed couple wants to visit Brasco and their famous flowers. Sandra and Theo suffer no Jet- Lag-something other tourists noted as well and are envious in a joking way. “Damm, mate, you're not a bit Jet-lagged.” Theo is a Golden Retriever to Sandra´s grumpy cat, and soon the others are opening up to the couple.

One couple confessed to Sandra and Theo how they fought one of their friends, Mike. Turns out- sparring some details for privacy sake- it was a bad fight, and they´re now regretting their words as Mike is gone. Sandra smiles at Theo - candid and showing all her teeth. The message is wordless - who snaps his fingers and remembers he promised to meet someone and they must leave now. The other couple said, “See you later,” and everyone enters their separate ways.

Now, they are strolling in Brasco- lower Brasco where commerce is thriving. Where crimson is at the finest. Scowling at the crimson anemones. “So...this is Brasco...I prefer Toronto” Theo jokes and notices her gaze.“Sandra?”

The woman let go of his arm. Theo is a big man to not complain about that. As his dark eyes notice she is kneeling near a crimson flower. A crimson anemone. She takes the flower and mutters a few words, and the flower melts in her hand until there's no vestige of said flower anymore. “Flowers of sadness. Flowers of lost love...Theo...this is more sinister than the Antichrist.” No one is paying attention to this couple- why would they? Brasco´s decoration is top notch, and everyone is taking the best selfies. Her lonely eye glared at Theo. “ I think this is yellow code.”

Theo now frowns and kneels near her. Always near her. “You saw this in your vision?” A dumb question is met with silence. “Ok. How many victims are we talking about?” Sandra slowly sees all the people walking nearby- people shouting and taking selfies and admiring each structure of Brasco. And of course, the flowers- and Theo exhale and swallow. He's from Aftermath. 

“Ok. Ok. So...I'm more grateful than ever for having you.” They rose from the ground She only lifts once she rinses and repeats the process with all crimson in this small bouquet. The flowers evaporated so easily. No one notices. No one watches nor cares, and resumes to call. Sandra is holding his arm.

“Theo...what's your plan.” She didn´t ask as much as she merely stated the fact he has a plan. 

Theo hummed to himself as a group of tourists are talking excitedly about something. And the man knows this dance very well. Too well if anyone cares to ask. “ Locate the creature and neutralize it once and for all” and this line is devoid of the any positive emotion. If you don´t feel joy in killing monsters, are you still human?

And Sandra rests her head on the shoulder.Height differences are a pain and the woman has to use heels to do some gestures with Theo, as now she hums too.

“Did you notice the cops?” Her single eye darts to the right where two guards are talking with someone- a citizen or a tourist? It´s a woman with a red dress and red hair, and both are grinning at each other. Theo noticed...now. “I think it is funny and fitting for them to pretend to be cops,” she adds, “What do you think?”

“They´re all ugly...and look way too passive...they're cops.” he states. not wanting to use the word demon in a public place even though Sandra did, but there's a limit for how many times the word demon can be utter without causing alarm. “Which means...they're waiting for the creature...then the banquet will be served,” he adds. “It’s a kid alright. If it was an adult..they would be already ….having an instance, let's leave at that.” Sandra cannot disagree.

Sandra stops and holds his face with her delicate and cold hands. “When the time reaches...I trust you to do the right thing.”

_ Trust me to murder a kid… _

And thanks to the power of heels, Theo doesn´t need to lower his face to kiss Sandra. No. This time she can´t ghostly touch his lips. She tastes like apples. He tastes like cheap toothpaste. His hands are warm. The kiss is welcome. Familiar and secure.

The cops saw the scene and recoil in horror at the scene.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Brasco is filled with noises. White noises who chat about nothing and everything at once. Classes are canceled thanks to the Red festival.Maria and Sophie didn't have time to ask Lucia why nor think they should as Samantha Karlom is back. Lovely as ever and Lucia may want some time with her missing daughter. Understandable. Samantha, as Maria saw a glimpse of her, is talking about how red is a good color to one of the teachers.  _ Wait, she was missing for some time and is talking about fashion?  _ She stops her muses when the police succeed and they all chat as they're best friends. Lucia is not present in the conversation.

_ Nevermind...this must be normal for them...right? Whatever, I have better things to worry about right now. _

Sophie took Candy and Isaac to the city hall. She claims a couple wants to get married and they want to do marriage in big style, even if as Isaac points out, it wasn't necessary- some people tend to prefer to marry in Brasco because it is cheaper than Las Vegas- and now it is only Maria and Adam who are back home.

“Sweetie, remember when we talked the first time you arrived here?” Adam mutely replies- nodding with his head- letting Maria do the talk. “I told you and promised...you would be safer with me,” she takes his hands, so cold as his eyes look so incredibly lost, “and I meant every word...but, you need to help me too...I need to know more about your past.” Adam tensed.

_ Ok...I knew he wouldn´t open so easily. _

Adam bites his lips. “Yeah. I´ll not open so easily...I´d not ...like to think about my past.” His fingers are fumbling. “Can we skip this talk?”

“No, I´m sorry, Adam. I can imagine that this is hard for you.” Maria´s wild hair is free from the braid and the older woman didn't care. “But I think, I mean, me and Sophie think...you may be a target of a cult...so, we need to know more in order to protect you.” It is a request and a plead..

Adam shakes his head again. He thinks of his nightmare. He reminisces of his first time in Brasco. He thinks of eyes…

“No…”

“Adam, please...this has anything to do with Yog-Sothoth?” Adam completely pales as he steps away from Maria.

“I don't want to talk about it.”Maria is ready to insist again when Adam replies again. “I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.” A llightning rain commences out of blue. The lighting went out, and all Maria could see was darkness until the lightning rain stopped. It was one minute at best. Mother nature has her wonders, and the power is back and Maria sees Adam recoil in a corner.

“I don't want to think about them...please.” He's crying. Sniffing. Maria hugs him promising she won´t ask again- for the time being. Whatever this kid saw was traumatic on its own. But this question will be answered eventually- and Adam didn´t let her see his eyes.

Maria promised a nice tea to calm his heart. Maria didn't see his crimson eyes.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Tourists. All eyes can see are tourists taking photos and chatting loudly about the famous crimson flowers. So many pretty blondes and pretty faces that are easy, so easy, to ignore another pretty blonde nor will pay attention to a lady with autumn hair, square face and dark eyes. Her nose is turned up, and she blends so easily, even if her outfits are out of any fashion trend. _ Another face, same old town. _

Merida watches the flowers in all corners of the city. Crimson and so akin to blood. And her eyes look up unfazed to an old poster of a missing child- Mark Evans. An average looking boy. The only child of the Evans family, and how the flower almost seems to weep.  _ Flowers don't weep. Humans do. _

She kneels to where this flower is and looks around to see all eyes focused on the shops on each other or anything else but in the mere flower- which, to be quite frankly, seems a cosmic joke- and lights a small fire on her pinky finger. “Sorry. my magic has a tool on me too. I can't do more than this.” She watches as the fire consumes the flower slowly and surely. When you burn a flower, the first thing you notice is the smell.

When you burn a flower in Brasco, the first thing you notice is the soft words of “thank you” in a child-like tone mixed with a pang of endless sadness.

_ Don't thank me...I couldn't do more than just that. _

____________________________________________________________________________________

Meeting Merida is not exactly that difficult, if you have seer abilities, yet what could Sandra do? Fight Merida among so many innocent mortals? Alert the demons about Aftermath? No, of course not, better leave the confrontation for another day. Her visions are always true and ...Sandra promised a bear to Theo. _ I always keep my promises _

The couple is labeled a grumpy cat and Golden Retriever by some noisy people. Sandra is making no favors for herself by hissing at them as they ask to take a thematic photo of the couple. “You two are the best looking couple we saw so far. A picture?” Sandra looks at Theo´s puppy eyes and she knows her mistake. She agrees,and the photo is taken. Both have no real purpose, apparently. Some tourists have tour guides- Rachel is the name of one of them. She was taking a nice group to see Brasco. Apparently, Roselands is canceled for motives not clear, but, it´s ok...Brasco has more to offer. Theo and Sandra are just typical couples. Nothing more here.

“A witch who turns her back on another witch is scum,” Sandra states as she is in front of a cottage. The woman was ready to ring the doorbell when the lightning rain began, out of blue, and Sandra turned to see Theo shaking. Pale as a ghost as the sound is too loud for him- tapping his ears with his hands as the man falls on the ground- and Sandra runs to his side.

_ Mother nature is unpredictable...but, this comes from nowhere. _

Sandra hugs him. Using a candid tone and putting his head near her heart, Theo can see the coin he gives to her. Oh, she really kept it. Why is he crying at that? “Hey, Theo, keep calm. Keep with me. Think of the bear, Theo. A bear.” 

This makes the man chortle. “Yeah, the bear. I have a hot date with a bear, thanks, love”

And the lightning rain is over. Sandra kissed his forehead. “I need to do something. Wait here.” And she went to the doorbell. Ring it. And Maria Magalhães answers it. Sandra forced a smile as she took her eyepatch revealing her white eye. “Hi, Maria. I'm a witch like you,” and Maria closes the door, not letting Sandra see the little boy who was drinking tea, and now is facing Sandra.

“What do you want? I'm just a potioneer.”

“I know. But a witch that turns her back to a witch is scum...I want to say hi.” And she gives her a card. “I think...you know this will be the last Red festival and when the time comes to take your children and leave...I know you have the means to live well.”

Maria frowns at that. “Did you work for my brothers or something?”

Sandra shakes her head and points to her white eye. “Don't worry. I'll call you when the time comes...just leave Brasco and never return…”

“Yog-Sothoth?”

Sandra doesn´t answer that. Instead, she walks away to see Theo on his feet. Time with the grumpy cat helps the Golden Retriever to return back to the hostel.

  
  
  
  
  



	6. Part 6

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**If you we`re to describe a lawyer's office, the first image that would come to you would be black, and along would rise the jokes about such a profession. Yet,this specific office has a palette of white and beige, assaulting any eye, and is completely devoid of color. The few sources of vibrating colors are coming from 2 different paintings. one has a garden, where people are doing a picnic, and the second is an explosion of colors. It gives the illusion the forms are writing the word “Adam.” Maria Magalhães is not well versed in arts.**

**Donned herself with a black dress- more than fit for her body figure and for the occasion at the same time- she hugs her black shawl as she stays still. The other figure in this room finally looks up to her- the man has blue eyes. And his body is an inverted triangle as his skin has a rich tone of brown,a kind smile curling into his face. “Please, Mrs. Magalhães...take a seat.” It is a professional and light greeting at the same time.**

**There's a golden plaque with the name Dr.Vernel Dorval.**

**Maria takes a seat but is quick to explain her title. “Miss Magalhães, my husband is gone from my life.” This causes some confusion in regards to her relationship -and her English can have some slips here and there. “I mean, my first husband and I are divorced. I never remarried...but I have a daughter with another man...is that clear?” she asks doubtfully, and Dr. Dorval only nods. Maria hugs her shawl again as if the shawl could absorb her anytime.**

**“Miss Magalhães, you´re not in trouble,” the man demurred, and Maria can only offer a weak and fake smile in return. Forming a smile seems so herculean effort that Maria gives up on the first try. Instead, she nods and averts her eyes from his- a photo of Dr. Vernel with a fireguard caught her attention. “And that´s the photo of my husband,” he says fondly as he watches the photo himself.**

**His blue eyes land on her blue ones. “A witch must never lie to another witch.” Maria´s eyes widen as her hands are free from each other. Her breath is free and all her body slouches in the chair she´s in. “I´m just a potioneer...I used to work in a beauty salon in Rio de Janeiro.”**

**“I practice voodoo…, the real one, not the fabricated version Hollywood loves to use it.” The man grins. “The idea of voodoo is to make sure good things happen to you. If the doll is well cared for, you´ll be well cared.” His eyes so treacherously travel to the picture one last time. “And since my husband is a bit of a klutz…” he trails off still in good mood but the grin drops. “We're not here to chat about magic or love.”**

**“João e Marina Magalhães left all their money to you. No, not only their money...but all their houses, legal rights of their intellectual properties and even jewelry.” Maria is ready to fall from her chair. She looks at some of the documents and shakes her head too strong.**

  
  
  


**“Mr. Dorval...it must be a mistake...I haven't spoken a word with my brothers for ...7 years, I wasn't even aware they passed away...I saw this on a news channel.” She is almost hyperventilating at this point. “This must be a mistake. No offenses to you, but, it must be a mistake...wasn´t João married with that countess? And Marina had an affair with that actor, right?” The man didn't answer her questions.**

**“So...why me? I was the forgotten sister!” She smacks her hand on the desk. “They left me and got this huge name to hold...and never once call me.” A grimace forms. “People were speculating if João and this Countess would have a baby,and I got nothing from them...so, no...no. I don´t believe they would leave everything to me.” She chuckles mirthlessly and looks away,still hugging her shawl. Her shoulders are shaking.**

**“Miss Magalhães...everything belongs to you now.” He provides a document among the white folders to prove his words. “It is all legal. They made you their only heir...as for the Countess of Switzerland...she may try to buy some of the states from you, but, if you don't wish to sell...she can't do much.” It is a simple explanation of legal bureaucracy. Maria is still shaking.**

**The woman gasped, not canceling her confusion nor her anger. “7 years without contact and they want to give me money?” She narrows her eyes and looks at the papers offended. “7 years…” she trails off, and Dorval replies as she closes her eyes and recalls how 7 years in her culture can be an omen.**

**“A witch can't lie to another witch.” The lawyer takes a deep breath. “They confessed to me how they got such fame and money…” Dr. Duval is professional even if he is taking a long sigh to tell such a story. “They told me they sold their very own souls for fame and money…How they had 7 years to enjoy the taste and how they want to leave everything to you.” He concludes the tale.**

**Maria is livid now. And knows she can´t reach the culprits.**

**“They sold their souls for fame and money.” The lawyer repeats and picks a letter -it was inside one of the white folders- and hands to Maria. “They wrote everything here…” her hands are shaking and the letter remains closed.**

**Maria let her hand travel over her face. “How much money do I have now?” It is an emotionless question.**

**“Enough to not need to sell potions/teas in a small city in Canada ever again.” Witches can't lie to each other. A witch is excused to gasp again with the exuberant number of zeros on the paycheck. “Your brothers knew about your new residence and even brought some of your potions...they were worried because the number of clients is not ...big”**

**“No, is not...but is not about how many clients I have, is about the quantity and they buy tea to sleep every day. Trust me, I´m not starving neither is my daughter...I'll ignore the fact they stalk me,” she said with a sour expression clenching her hands. “People in Brasco did something with a woman named Faya….something they are ashamed of and now they want to drink my teas and hope to stay in Dreamland and never return.” A sneer is impossible to contain. Dr. Duval makes no inquiries.**

**Then the conversation shifts to the legal aspect of the situation. Maria is by all accounts of the law the only heir of a huge empire. João´s merchandising is worth gold, and Mariana´s songs are still a hit, and anyone that wants to cover “All eyes on me” will have to pay a fee to the Records and Maria as well.**

**The Brazilian woman is biting her nails. Looking at some photos and even videos of the proprieties. “They had a house in Paris...they decorated recently…I mean, before their death.” The video shows the image of a room that is well-suited to a girl in Candy´s age. Maria raises her hand. “Please, I don't want to see this.” Her tone is watery while her eyes exhibit such tiresome ...one wonder if she has the energy to cry.**

**“I don't want this house nor the money…” She adds, looking hopeless at Durval. “They sold their souls for so little...why?” Deep down, Maria has a different understanding of demon-one that seems realistic- a producer promised riches and fame if they follow his lead...and if they never set a foot in the poorest part of Brazil again, if they never talk with Maria again…**

**_Was I that insignificant?_ **

**“Money is the root of all evil...but, I remember a story my grampé used to tell me...if the crossroad demon gets a certain number of souls...then the Antichrist shall rise and conquer and destroy this world.” And Maria blinks at this story, almost wanting to laugh. Almost, instead, she offers a grimace and her silence.**

**“Satan would be proud,” Maria sneers at this, secretly grateful to be able to move on from the previous line of conversation. She put her hands on her face. She stays still until the noise of sobbing breaks the silence. “You know my father used to tell,” she says, taking a deep breath and speaking fast, still possible to understand her words. “The antichrist would bear out 1000 virgins with magic blood and Marina would always laugh at this.” Maria is not laughing. Neither is Dr. Duval.**

**“Yog-Sothoth would be the one to make the creature…” and then Durval flashes a smile. As his little tale is over and there´s no more need for details. “The Outer Gods ignored us for too long...it won't change so easily.” Dr. Duval ends with a nice little joke- cosmic powers care so little for jokes from mortal. Sadly, Maria has no room to laugh or appreciate.**

**“Yeah, they´ll continue to ignore us,” Maria replies a bit blankly. There´s scorn to even look at the letter of her brothers. Maria is rich now and at the same time, never was so desolated as she´s now.**

  
  
  


_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Candy pouts unapologetically-an expression hard to miss- as her friend Isaac is studying the tourists around Brasco. The car is moving in a moderated speech, while Sophie promised a nice day for the kids and herself. Isaac only hums in agreement as Candy looks to the window of the car to see redder, more crimson, and no signal of blue. _I hate red too...and Isaac is the only one who likes it._

The merry tone on Sophie is so palpable-in her long speech about Brasco and the Red festival a small tale about a wedding is heard and appreciated by the first lady- and from what Sophie is drawing and is a lot to get a vivid image- “So, they´re one of your old fans?” Isaac asked back. His mother may resent the word old for some reason. 

“I did let go of my past...but I still have fans.” She flashes a nice smile. “But I promise I´m not a primadonna...Candy, sweetie, tell that to your mother...I'm not a primadonna.” She said in a funny tone as she´s closer to the city hall. Isaac and Candy laugh at such a line even if Candy is not entirely about one thing. _What primadonna means?_

Parking the car is an easy feature to Sophie-even if there are other cars present. Sophie is a fantastic driver- and Isaac sees at the entrance of the city hall with disdain written in his face. His blue eyes are taken each piece -almost as if he never saw this place before-and hissed under his breath, “hypocrites,” as citizens and tourists are walking near the city hall. Taking selfies, talking, furthermore enjoying the day.

“So...how was the first day? And don´t think you can lie to me...I'm the greatest actress here, ask your mother, Candy. I endured her coffee phase like a champ!”Candy snorts at that. Issac almost grins. Almost. “What happened between you and Adam?” Her tone is more direct. The first lady is an adult and in moments like this Candy and Isaac don´t forget about this. _Trust an adult, except to tell you the truth._

Silence is the answer.

_In a way, silence is always the answer here. Always._

“We´re magic beings. He didn´t seem to think so...and Candy feels rejected.” It is a placid answer and Candy is not outright denying-she´s blushing as the implications and words used are hard to miss. And oh is so easy to see her blushing. Too noticeable- and Sophie sighs in relief _nothing serious…_

“He´s new in Brasco and is discovering himself…” Isaac hopes this won't be a puberty talk _Please, Faya please don´t_ \- “and if he doesn't like magic...it shouldn't matter, right?” innocuous enough. Not enough to Candy.

“Look... I and your mother have known each other since day 1 and we have our disagreements.” She twists her lips, and her eyes nervously move from one side to another. “We all remember when she tried to make coffee and how...not good it was.” Candy cracks a smile, and Isaac is covering his mouth. “Well, we fought over the bad coffee but we ended up getting over. Friendship is way more valuable than coffee...and I think it is a type of love that hardly anyone pays attention.” Fondness is written in her face. “My point here is...Adam is still getting grips with what just happened and with Brasco...while you two have a big advantage over him.” Isaac remains mute. Candy can nod -if only to show she's paying attention- _3 is a magic number...and I´m not wrong...Adam is the one who is blind._

_He's like a mule...too stubborn to admit mistakes and refuses to look back._

And while the mood inside the car is slowly dissipating,Candy is still pouting, petulant. However, as soon as the lightning storm hits it is out of the blue. Winter in Brasco has crimson flowers, not lighting storms. The girl yelps and hugs her legs as winced loudly.

Sophie and Isaac are quick to act. Sophie-the car is already parked, already turned off - goes to Candy with a candid tone and strength as Isaac hugs her and whispers something into her ear. “Candy,” Isaac relented confidently. “I'm here. I'll protect you”

“Sweetie, Candace, look at me.” Sophie´s instructed as Candy´s meet with her eyes. “Breathe in and out. You´re saved. The lighting is a big meanie, ok?” A hug has ensued and Candy manages to notice cops watching the scene- the windows of Sophie´s car aren't dark enough to hide people- and they're looking grossed-out.

The storm stops as if it never happened. Taking another deep breath- hiccuping a little- Candy stops hugging her legs and huffs. “We can go... if you aren't…” Sophie begins to caress her back. Isaac added they could go home. 

Candy swallows. “No, I want to see a wedding.” She glares at the window to see no more lighting and the cops are gone - still looking grossed out. “I want to see the marriage, please.” Sophie nods- agreeing after Candy promised she´ll stay closer and if she feels too much she´ll mention- and they´re entering the city hall in long steps.

The famous section of the union has two ladies waiting for the first lady. A lady with purple hair- named Juliet Morels waves extra happily and mentioned lines from the only movie Sophie made- and a lady with glasses and brown hair named Alice Wills.

Issac is still surprised to see such scenes. _Mom was an actress..._

The ceremony is rather easy-nothing glamorous aside a few jokes with the famous movie Sophie did. Candy and Isaac are a bit clueless but remain to chat in a hissed tone. “Nice wedding, Sekel...but, what about the Burned Witch?” His reply was, “She loved someone but she wasn't married...she was burned…” “Well, she was more than just her death, right? So...what do you know about it?”

_Friends don´t lie._

“I only know this,” Isaac concludes as the couple is legally married now. They signed the documents-one of the famous aspects of Brasco. Quick and legal matrimony when Sophie snaps her fingers grinning widely. “Wait!” She plunges a crimson anemone in the windows´ iron bar. Alice accepted the flower-saying she loves anemones- however, the once happy smile is gone.

Alice starts to ball her heart out. Covering her face with her hands, hiccuping and speaking gibberish until she falls to the ground. “ I love you so much...but...I also loved Jason too...am I a bad person?”Candy noticed the cops-new faces, the same uniforms- near the area. Juliet goes to Alice´s level and lifts her face.

“Love, I knew it. I know you loved Jason...he was your first love...Why do you think you should forget about your past to be with me? I had other girlfriends I loved too...and I don't need to pour salt on me to purify and give my love to you.” She jokes as she touches the face and in doing so the flower falls. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, I love you”

“Then...why live in the past? We're the future.” They kissed sweetly. The cops recoil and look even more grossed out- a fact Candy is noticing too much- and soon there´re no cops. Only the couple. Sophie. Candy and Isaac.

The words of Adam echoes in her mind. **_Blue anemones are symbols of trust, authority, also intelligence._ **Isaac is the one to interject only to Candy. “Crimson anemones are a symbol of lost love...but you can find new love if you make peace with your past.”

“Everyone can love. Me. You. Mom...”

_And so does Adam?_

__________________________________________________________________________________

Brasco is a city that thrives with tourism. At it´s peak all one can hear is a cacaphony along with smells going from a sweet scale to a sour and salty one. The crimson flowers are getting more crimson. Brasco is getting far and far-red. A worthy picture for any self-respecting tourists.

The lower part of Brasco is always filled with life. The city hall, for example, has many commenting about its structure. “Very elegant,” “it was a reminiscence of the France imperialism...there's a rumor even the British didn't want to change this building,” and those comments make it easy to ignore how the number of anemones grow...and how the missing posters follow suit.

  
  


Yet, a few miles from the city hall, there´s one single place where they're no anemones. No crimson and no sound. The Precinct of Brasco seems ancient in a way-nothing something people would glass over- as nothing happens in this small place.

Inside such a forgotten place. Nothing resides. Bleakness and brimstone as a circle of cops are formed- no one dares to speak anything. Silence is the key. Silence is the answer- Sheriff Duncan has his faithful notebook-a bit jaded and with a big bold letter D in the cover- writes compulsorily. Until it stops.

If one voice is to speak. It has to be Sheriff Duncan first and foremost. It’s a rule. “All our efforts are finally getting paid...finally our mission is coming to a close.”He grins at the others showing his fangs. Golden flash in his iris surge as his speech continues. “The antichrist shall rise!”

And silence is the answer to it. Silence is not the answer for one cop. “If it is true...if all we did is for a measly child to rule mortals...why isn't this child here already? Why do we have to wait?” Abel is no longer under the pretenses of humanity. No one here is.

Duncan lets the darkness take his writing words,lets it consume, lets the chaos have it, as he slowly stalks towards the one who inquires. The one who should be silent. “Yes, we did wait a long time...and I know dealing with humans is not...pleasant, sometimes.” No illusion anymore. Let Duncan be bare in his true essence. “ I know...I know too well how replaceable I´m and how disposable you truly are, Abel.” His fangs show a razor-sharp grin.

How tall and mighty Duncan truly is. How inferior Abel truly is. His claws rest on his shoulder as the darkness hugs Abel´s form. As Duncan eats flesh by flesh of Abel. Silence is the answer.

The silence can´t be broken. Ever.

His bloody smile never weaves not even when there's no more Abel. “I´ve waited too long for this...we all follow THEIR orders.” Silence is the answer. Darkness watches. “The Antichrist shall rise when it is time...and we'll finally be done hiding. Yog-Sothoth makes no mistake.” Then, his eyes noticed something. A cat parade in this small space. Duncan can growl. Duncan can curse, but Duncan can't lift a finger to hurt a cat.

“Thanks to our feline friends here.” The tone is spoken with such an acid tone. “The Curlems´ mind is far gone...they're no use to us.” The cat meows. They ignore it, shrugging off the leader continues. “So...I had to be creative and in a way, I'm sort of doing a favor for that poor witch, poor Faya...almost feel guilt. Almost.” He guides his cops to the table with at least a dozen pies.

  
  


Duncan allows one cop to speak. He was gracious to ask permission and Duncan is in an excellent mood. “The Curlems are dead. Will people suspect anything? Humans are dumb but not that dumb”

Duncan nods in agreement. “Yes, no one is that dumb...I had to fabricate a good story...as for the bodies of Curlems,” the grin is returned. “I think it is ironic, those two gleefully watch Faya getting burned ...but they taste so sweet.” Taking a piece of such pie, Duncan hummed again. “Too sweet. We...should let more people know about such sweet pie, after all, can you think of a charming small city without a sweet pie?”

Silence is gold.

Meanwhile, in the Summers residence, Titus is eating a slice of pie-when did he ever get such a slice?- as he watches the empty house of the Curlems. A relief expression refreshes his old tired expression. “Finally the Curlems are getting what they deserve.” He takes another piece of the pie. “Uhm...this is really delicious...What Duncan put here?”

____________________________________________________________________________________

Adam gives a small tale about himself as Maria seems to want to listen.The image of a cult is more ingrained than ever in Maria's mind thanks to such a little story, and the sense of paranoia is hard to combat. _They´re watching him? us? For how long did they watch Adam?_ In exchange, the subject was changed swiftly. Once the storm is over, the easy feeling came...or was it the other way around?

“You and Candy fought...why?” Maria asked as she´s curious. She can't force Adam to tell more about his past...if it is as painfully as she imagines to be- and the teen is drying his tears. A mute Adam doesn't sit well with Maria.

“You know, sometimes...me and Sophie fight too. God knows she drives me crazy sometimes.” She chuckles as she thinks about the past. “Nothing serious, you know, but...one time she told me my coffee was awful...and I took that by heart, 3 days later she was here drinking the coffee...don´t tell her...but she had a point, I know how to make tea, not coffee.” She winks at Adam who vehemently promises to keep the secret.

Putting a cup down gently, the conversation is far from over. “Actually, we´re friends because we understand each other's plight.” A quirked smile born into her face. Maria can still be amused by certain English words. “I know the world sees us differently. She knows that and she respects that...I don´t need a white saviour...and sometimes, all I want is to vent and she listens.” She closes her eyes, pinching her nose. “My first and last husband cheated on me, and we got a divorce …” She trails off as Adam can read the subtext. 

Therefore, Adam mulls over such information given. Friends support each other and then his mind reels back and forth in regards to what really happened in the classroom. The image-as clear as day- of Candy telling about what she thought she saw and how this could be interpreted. _It is not impossible for a teacher to play pranks...just to have 5 minutes of break and laugh._

Opening his mouth,getting Maria's full attention, the boy spoke firmly and with politeness in his tone. “The teacher gave us the assignment to make drawings with only red color...until said teacher left and replaced herself with a replica made by flowers and such…” He scratches his head. “And Isaac almost got into a fight but I stopped it...anyway, Candy thought it was real and was upset.” Adam concludes waiting.

And his answer is a burst of laughter. Maria´s shoulder vibrates as her head is thrown back. The laughter lasts one minute and as she's taking her breath, some clarification is needed. “Oh...that’s Candy...not the first time it happens, nor will it be the last.”

Adam mentioned how it wasn't her fault. It was a good joke. A nice prank, but Maria shakes her head amused.

“Adam, get ready! Candy is ...like that and worse. She falls for any joke. She even falls for the toc toc joke.” She snaps her fingers two times. “I meant, knock-knock joke.” And the conversation shifts to another topic. 

“Adam...I was thinking...if you could live in any place in this world, where you would like to be?” And she adds before he makes wrong assumptions, “I was thinking of moving away. Me, Candy and you to a new place, spend the holiday...I have a house in France.” She grimaces and winces to the point Adam wonders if she's ok. “It´s not a house I like very much, for private reasons, but we could stay in another place or hotel...would that be ok with you?”

“Not sure...Brasco is odd, really odd. I arrive here for some reason…” He closes his eyes. “All eyes were on me...is what I remember...looking and looking, but I arrived here in Brasco, of all people, never saw anything else...France seems nice. I guess.” He shrugs off. Not the worst reaction.

_Could have thrown a tantrum or asked how I get a house in France._

“Yes, well...I want to have this conversation with Candy...can you keep this as a secret?” Adam makes a salute, swearing secrecy as if this could shatter the reality of this plane. “What?”

“I read in a book…” the boy explained without any further ado, “will you keep the phone of that lady as a secret too?” It is an innocuous question, yet, Maria feels as if she´s treading on something dangerous.

“Yes, please. Candy gets too excited about magic and ...if she falls for an easy prank...imagine what she would do if she found out about this.” And the older woman puts the card in a secret drawer-the one that has zero candies- and frees Adam to go to his room.

A good conversation does wonder to the soul. Adam wants to go to his room and sleep. He wants to drift to dreamland. He wants to rule Dreamland and not worry.

Drifting away he´ll. Drifting away will be postponed until second order as Adam notices Candy´s door open- and curiosity bites him hard. Maria is downstairs preparing a nice coffee-as much she can delude her mind into this task- for herself and Adam entered in.

Nothing out of normal is in place. Adam´s curiosity is misplaced. What he wants to see. “What I should know?” he mutters to himself and his eyes flick to a book-one of Candy´s favorites- that is very similar to Adam.

**The Adventures of Lila. First edition.**

However, the cover art looks different from the others. Adam opens the book to see the envoy addressed for Candy.

To my adorable fairy princess, I draw a magical world for you and I hope I can see my little Candy growing up and being a pretty and brave fairy in Brasco. Your mother is the fairy Queen, and I was the luckiest man for having found her. Never stop believing magic, com amor, papai.

Adam delicately puts the book back where it belongs and is ready to leave the room. Somehow, the control remote falls on the ground, and it prompts to turn on the TV. It´s showing not cartoons or films, rather, an interview with a naturalist and a reporter who looks like a visible fright.

“Are you saying bear attacks aren't really common?”

“No, of course not, the problem is, and I´ll not use the victim´s real name, Bob did everything wrong and angered the beast...they are very protective of their cubs…” The naturalist exclaims, giving the impression the fault is on Bob. “Bear attack is minimal but it happens and it doesn´t help the case it was a grizzly bear.” Images of the said bear being sedated are showing. “Thankfully for Bob, his injuries are not...as serious as it should be...with intense therapy he may be walking again after a year. MAYBE.” 

Cue to more images of the bear. Adam watches the news a bit mesmerized.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Even cities like Brasco have a rating system in their hotels or hostels in this case. And Sandara is more than glad for technology to be a thing as it helps to book a nice hostel with 3 stars reviews- good service. Good room. More than enough to Sandra- and the suite where the two agents are is perfect for a makeshift hideout...and for the primary reason _if that wasn't a dangerous mission._

  
  


Sandra rubs her shoulder for a minute or two as she tilts her head. “Bloody hell.” If she ever indicates any blush on her face -which may or may not be too strong- as she notices a pair of handcuffs, It will remain to be told. Her fingers start to travel to the door crafting a big symbol-out of thin air and with blue color brightening for a brief and vague second. “An infestation of demons. A curse killing firstborns...and the Antichrist...never thought Yog-Sothoth would pick a small place in Canada for its plots.” She grimaces at her own words.

Theo is behind her- taking his time with his suit- and hummed in agreement. “I would pick Italy, Come on, tell me it wouldn't be epic: an Antichrist battle in the coliseum?” A joke is thrown. No response. The storm comes and goes and only cements their mission even more. “You got to admit...at least, we're not dealing with snake Gods...again!” 

Sandra sends him a stinky eye. “Careful to not jinx. I hate snakes.” And Theo raises his hands in total surrender. The man is brave enough to chuckle at her reaction and at the same time is smart enough to not mention anything else revolving snakes.

“I know it is not romantic any of this...but, for what's worth...I'm happy I'm here with you...even if you just waltz your way into my mission.” It is a light and candid tone and Sandra offers a ghost of a smile. 

“Anytime, Theo.” She turns to see the man shirtless. No shame. No hush and no one is completely having professional thoughts.

Theo Smith is a grown-up man. His chest has some scars- wolves creatures. Bites and scratches aren't contagious. Just painfully and impossible to heal- and maybe her stare was too intense. Too on the nose as Theo clears his throat and crosses his arms- a fake modesty. Not a good act...Theo was never a good actor, to begin with- “Oi, my eyes are up here!”

Sandra can roll her eyes. The grin continues shyly as possible as Theo can be a bit more sly. “Disappointed I don't have 12 packs?” his chrotle tone as if any moment Theo will laugh and Sandra can´t laugh louder. Sandra can offer a comforting and shy smile. 

Sandra takes off her shirt. “You're still as handsome as ever. You're healthy and attractive.” No blush must be commented here. “What those magazines say about ideal bodies are nothing more than fantasies...I like you the way you are, big dummy!”

Theo chuckles and agrees with her terms. “You gave her number to that witch...you think she'll call?” It is a nice question, unlike Hollywood movies or some expectations, no one stops thinking when they're about to be intimate with someone nor do they act like animals.

A contemplative look is given. “A witch must never turn her back on another witch, if she doesn't call...I'll take her out. Her and her kids...but, to be fair, right now, I´m not here to speak about witchcraft.” And her hands gingerly trace some of his oldest scars. “It Is a paradox...when I'm with you, I'm making magic but I can't think of anything else regarding witchcraft.”

“Now, that's romantic!” Theo sly comments as his hand palms her face- feeling her soft skin- and untying his hair- letting her hair cascade and covering her breast- and the kiss is initiated. Sweet at first. She wasn't wearing any lipstick. But her breath tastes like mint.

The kiss brokes as Theo rests his forehead- height difference screams a little here- and Sandra asks, “How will you kill the Antichrist?” To such questions, all Theo can do is kiss her forehead. 

“And ...you need to improve your sex talk a little.” Then his smile dies and tries again. “I'll use my hands”

Sandra is not inconspicuous at this moment and neither is Theo. “Then...give me your hands, give me your body and I shall bless your soul.” Her eye-the other one is opaque- stares at him.

Another kiss is initiated. This time the tongues taste each other. The kiss is full of passion as a moan escape from Theo´s mouth. “Then...please, bless me always, my seer witch.” He says this in a breathless tone.

Sly and shyly work together. Sandra and Theo become united in a more carnal way. Blessing him over and over again.

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Part 7

  
  


Adam is resting his back on the bed as his eyes are taking each picture in display of some magazine with extremely attentiveness. Images and more images of grizzly bears with texts and interviews about this big mammal. 

A loud and middle angry knock is heard, and his eyes flick from a big bear chewing something to Candy crossing her arms at him. Her lips are in a thin line, and her hair is tied up in a bun as her back rests on the wall of his room.

His dark eyes locked with Candy´s brown ones. He didn't move, and Candy took initiative to enter anyway-never once bothered by the silence. Adam still refuses to move. His eyes are collected, and Candy has a storm of emotions.

“Hey, mom made a killer chicken soup,” Candy pipes in in a bristle tone. Shrugging, she continues not minding his silence. “She knows how to make a good soup. You think your mother would do the same?” As she slouches down in a chair put as an ornament.

Adam frowns but closes his eyes. Mentally remembering how his first day in Brasco was and who saved him. “That was cruel, you know that!” His tone is conversational as much as possible.

“Well, so is telling my mother that I'm overreacting…” She stalks closer and closer to his face “It seems my teacher likes to do realistic pranks on me….silly me!” Her eyes narrow at him. Dark eyes glare at him. Brown eyes are showing no fear.

“Ok, so let's tell Maria ...what really happened and that you want to solve this on your own.” He challenges back. His tone is still conversational. Still calm and in control. The moon almost appears to back Adam up. The moon is shining as bright as it can be and also almost looks like one big eye watching.

**Watching….**

**Watching…**

**And watching…**

Candy lets a satisfied smile grace her lips. “Oh, so you admit there's something wrong here? Not a prank …”

“I never denied it. I think I said,” and he intoned his voice to give more effect, “what could you do against whatever is happening?”

She sneers. Not sure if at him, his words or whatever Brasco is hiding. “Better than not knowing…” She seems to touch a nerve. “You’d not want to know about your own past?”

“No...not really.” His tone is a bit icy. She doesn´t need to ask the obvious, not with words at least. “All I can remember is people...watching me, watching me and watching me...and I know the cliche,” he uses finger quotes now, “your past is important and all that jazz,” he stops the quoting, “but sometimes...the past is better to be left behind.” His dark eyes sideline to the moon. The moon took no side. The moon, however, is shining only on Adam.

“The past may be painful...but ignoring your roots just means you won't ever get a future…” Her fingers twitch as she is tugging her own sleeve. She's using a sweater with the maple leaf so famously associated with Canada. However, the sweater clashes with the socks with the national colors of Brazil. _Especially if you have mixed roots!_

Adam groaned in acceptance or in rejection. The boy has his secrets, has his own stories and Candy knows one day she'll know all of it. The mystery of Adam only loses to the terror it lays beneath of Brasco. 

“You won't stop...won't you?” Adam makes a rhetorical question as Candy gives a daring smile. “Ok, then if you want to play Scooby Doo...I'm coming with you, but, promise me...if things get too dangerous...you'll stop it.”

“Of course, I promise.” She adds. “A witch doesn't lie.” _But can omit and play with words._

Both teens shake hands in a gesture to seal the deal, so to speak. Candy withdraws her hands from Adam too quickly.

“Your hands are too hot,” she complains, waving her hand up and down to cool off or so is what she hopes to accomplish.

“I did drink that tea...it’s not that hot,” Adam defends himself, still tasting the tea in his lips.

Candy shrugs. “Careful on the hot tea then. It almost feels as if you´re covered with hellfire.”

Adam halts. “What a curious thing to say…”

Candy shrugs. The moon shines only on Adam now and Candy is far too busy talking and planning to care for the moon.

__________________________________________________________________________________

The city is not restless in such hours. The sun shies away from Brasco allowing the grey clouds to remain. No rain so far. Only grey clouds looking below humans as Brasco gets red and redder. In a forsaken jaded painted white bench lays a kafkaesque amount of large clothes and body parts being ignored by time and people. Nothing unusual about it.

A clash of beige, yellow, red and brown is a sour sight to anyone's eyes. Merida sits in a manspread way,drinking her beer. _Shitty beer is better than no beer_. The last drops of said beer are greedily swallowed with a frown on her now rounded face. “Fuck Brasco and fuck their beers” is an eloquent phrase to start the day.

**New face, same attitude!**

The bottle is empty and is still in her right hand. Merida lets her head touch the back of the benche as her eyes stare at the sky. Waiting for a solution. An easy solution and like always the sky only stares back. “What's the point of Gods?” Merida, now with her face in a square way along with blue eyes, has her answer in the form of silence. “Hey, you...will you stop watching me? It’s freaking me the hell out.” Her head changes position to see Lucia Karlom entering in her view field.

Lucia Karlom is wearing a winter dress with a soft blue hue to match with her fiery hair, one lonely white streak stood out from the rest, as her cheekbones are visible and her eyes are unnervingly staring at Merida. Her eyes also notice the empty bottle. “Hello, Merida, fancy the weather?” A courteous tone is used.

Merida bites her inner check and let go of the empty bottle. Her eyes scan Lucia up and down without shame. “Are you what? The MILF of Brasco?” Full of jester and mischievous. Lucia sighs and loudly counts to 10.

“No, well…” She stops herself for a moment. “I suppose if I WAS...I would be a freaking MILF of Brasco, would I?” She throws a smile at Merida, who frowns in response.

“Damn...now you're ruining MILFS for me,” Merida almost spit at the end. Almost. Her mouth is too dry of sudden. “So, why are you here?” It’s a tactless question which used a poor tone, but Merida´s eyes are paying attention to the flowers, the crimson anemones, and she can imagine politeness did nothing to those poor souls.

“Well, I´m not here to see your fancy Hobo stick.” Her tone is light as she takes a final look at Merida's outfit and shakes her head. “I´m a witch and I´ll not turn my back on another witch.” There's a finality in her voice.

Merida remains silent. Her eyes are once blue- just like the ocean,just like Dagon´s home- are now grey and devoid of any real light. Merida remains silent, but her eyes are speaking loudly. 

**Don´t believe in you!**

  
  


Lucia takes the grimoire out of her purse. “I search on the Grimoire...there's a way to break Faya´s curse...There's a way to save the next generation.” She bites her inner lips as her eyes are pleading. A witch must never turn her back on another witch.

Merida didn't look at Lucia for a brief moment. No, instead her eyes dwell on the view of the forest, and she frowns as everyday the forest gets bigger and bigger. _Surrender by the green is fantastic unless there's nothing out there growing and waiting to kill us all or just a toy._

Now, Merida looks up to Lucia. “Tell me,” she demands, and Merida is not one to be polite or anything similar. “Your old look was really shitty, you know? Nihilism is not as glamorous as people seem to think…” Her tone is peeved. Boiling as her eyes are golden. “It was fun to pretend you´re the special one? Oh, I´ll watch the end of the world on my chair...isn't that splendid?” She mocks Lucia´s tone. “So, what? Some people are shitty and are too easy to let evil win, Lucia, too easy...but, I´m the fool who is trying and that should be the fashion...and not this cynical nihilism.” Merida concludes crossing her arms.

Merida closes her arms. Hug herself and won't deny her words. “It was easy to follow in a nihilistic way...because I thought only then I would be able to see my daughter…” Then, her lips quiver. “But now...my daughter is gone and a demon is using her face...and I'm tired to pretend nothing ever matters.” She swallows. “I´m human. I made mistakes, just like you...and I want to atone...I'm a witch, Merida...let me do this.” This is the final argument used.

Merida scratches her neck looking at the forest and then at Lucia. “Ok, welcome to the team I give a damn.” There's a sneer on her face. “Since we're going to work together...what you did …” She trails off, and Lucia seems to get it.

“I´ve got the feeling we´re stalling! I used my magic to make my daughter beautiful. I married a man, a not so attractive man.” Merida made some comments that Lucia ignores and continues. “And people pity Quasimodo for being an ugly man...if he was an ugly woman...you think they would offer the same courtesy? I used dark magic to give beauty to my daughter, and I broke a few rules among our community. And you?” Lucia waits for the response.

“I broke a few rules too.” It seems she was appeased. “How do we break the curse?”

“Easy,” the word is laced with sarcasm. “All we have to do is find the heart of Faya and stop it. Then the curse will stop it ...for good,” Lucia promised.

“And…” her eyes land on the crimson anemones, “you know”

“We can purify...but...no.” Lucia lost a bit of eloquence here. Oh, maybe this is a situation where a few words are enough.

Merida nods, and Lucia stands a hand to the now blonde woman. “if you don't have a place to stay...you could stay in my house.”

“Afraid of a demon?” Merida asks and shakes her head. “I´m too wild, not human enough to live in your cozy house.” Her eyes are shimmering now. “And you and this demon?”

“I can manage her,” she adds. “please don´t sleep on the street...let me help you...at least to pay you a nice meal.”

Merida agrees as her stomach has been growling for 2 minutes. A group of cops sneers and walks away as the two witches are walking together. 

___________________________________________________________________________________

Brasco at the dawn is a completely different city. Silence roams every corner, streets and mirroring a ghost town. Only without no real souls at the moment- the term soul is not to be used so loosely in Brasco- as the anemones are as crimson as are criminal. Sandra kneel near one of them and her face falls as she´s muttering a few ancient words- not latin and not important anymore- until the flower is gone. _Oh, crimson flowers shouldn't ever be so covered with red, so cover with blood._

One doesn't leisure stroll at the dawn of a small city alone. One doesn´t stroll at Brasco alone if you know what's hiding behind every corner. Sandra, however, can use the mask of indifference to continue her path. _The demons are the bay...waiting...once the Antichrist is dealt...I shall have to kill every single one of them and they know it._

Better assuage the situation. So far, 300 demons are in her book. It could be more. A witch must always look people into their eyes...it’s where the souls are.

Her eyes spot Merida and Lucia talking. Small world free of coincidences.

_Uhm...Witches working together is a good thing or a bad thing now?_

Suddenly her movements halt as her expression is impassive at best. Never dwell too much on what a seer is feeling. Her white eye is now grey and foggy as her mouth opens ever so slightly. Open enough to taste her own tears.

  
  


“I hate demons'' is eloquent enough to summarize her inner feelings. Sandra runs back to the hotel to find Theo already awake - the Aftermath requires you to be an early riser. If not, you won't survive- watching a children's cartoon in bed and with a goofy smile on his face.

“Sandra?” the goofiness dies as now he's looking at the Seer Witch. A powerful ally which every word must be taken seriously.

“Get ready for your hot date with a bear,” she exclaims exasperated never once caring about the choices of words.

Theo blinks as he looks back to the TV. The cartoon is showing a marathon of **We Bare Bears.**

______________________________________________________________________________________

A new day rises, and soon, people are flooding Brasco with excitement, noises and flashes from their cameras-either from their cellphones or their camera.Maria is happy to open her small business. Working home has some advantages and drawbacks. _Please, let's continue to have normal clients that want to sleep 12 hours and go to Dreamlands...ok, normal is not the word to be used here…_

Candy and Isaac did seem to patch things up and are friends again. Which Maria has to sign in relief-if her daughter got a problem with Adam...it would be a difficult happenstance. Candy took some candies, somehow, mentioning her powers and how she and Adam must go to Isaac. Maria was about to say no and they shouldn't go alone in such time. Not in a time where tourists are showering Brasco with attention.

Adam, however, was really persuasive and Maria ended up relent. “Promise you 3 will be together and no funny business.” Candy was silent while Adam was the one who made the promise and now, it’s only Maria and her cottage. Until someone barks into the door.

The same woman from yesterday. 

And Maria feels a tight knot in her throat all of sudden. 

“You, potioneer, can you make more sleeping potions and other potions?” Her tone reeks of urgency and Maria scans her face for a moment.

“Not healthy to drink more than one potion per day, and if you have other types of potions in mind...it would take time depending on what you´re about to ask.” Maria explains carefully and in an old tone all at once. It’s not the first nor last time a client needs to sleep so desperately.

“Not for me, Maria...for a group of people.” Sandra almost had the mind to show her badge but think back, what a secret badge from a secret society will motivate Maria in this scenario?

“I'm afraid I'm not following,” Maria tries again.

_Witches don´t lie._

“Demons who worship Yog-Sothoth are one of biggest followers of learning ngby meant,” Sandra sneers as Maria is not following still, or at least, pretending to not see. “The demons love cannibalism as much they love to sound pretentious. Now, do you want to help me or do you want a hand in your next pie?”

_Witches don´t lie. Gosh, I wish we could…_

____________________________________________________________________________________

Arriving at Isaac's house didn't take much. Adam did look anxious throughout the walk- so many people. So many eyes- while Candy did frown at some of the obnoxious tourists. Finally, they're in Isaac´s house and the blonde boy was waiting for them.

His house is worthy of someone of his position. Sophie greets them briefly as she is working in the missing children case as well being the First Lady. Titus Summers is in his office as he´s overseeing the situation of the dead lands. Food being scarce takes anyone's sleep.

Brasco will have an improvised pie contest thanks to Sheriff Duncan. Sophie hated the idea. Titus doesn´t mind.

Roselands are withering. A small piece of land where people usually plant their food for more than 200 years, and now is dying and no one knows why. Titus recalls some people saying something about odd mushrooms, which of course, Titus rejected this idea. Brasco has crimson flowers, not mushrooms.

Sophie offers some suggestions to Roselands. Nothing is off the table aside from the mushrooms` theories.

All the while, Brasco needs Quebec more than ever. If Quebec fails, if Quebec rejects them...Brasco it will be at their own mercy and Titus is losing sleep. The best remedy is to shut himself in his study room. Ignoring the kids. His mind is racing miles for hours.

So, let the kids play. Pay no mind to the kids and resume to work in his own little bubble. Ignore the children and the eyes.

Adam notices the few magazines in the guest room. Magazines talking about wildlife and one of them is talking about bears. Adam picks up said magazine and looks at the photos. Bear attacks are rare but not impossible.

“Do you like bears now?” Candy asked amused as Adam is so focused on the photos is almost cute. “Thought you fear them or something…” she trails off. Why would anyone be so invested in real life bears?

“Oh, well...yes! Bears are dangerous creatures,” Adam concedes. “They´re Apex predators, you know, they can maul you in seconds and they've got no predators...plus they hibernate...an animal that hibernates is bound to be interesting to me,” Adam explains and pays attention to Candy´s baffled expression adds. “I mean, what a bear dreams when he´s in hibernation?” And this conversation is over now.

“Bears aside,” Isaac interjected hopefully, “what we should do now?” he inquires smiling brightly. Candy is having second thoughts, yet she can't give up. If she can't answer what bears dreams, what can she do about Brasco?

“Look, we need to understand what this Burned...” she stops noticing Isacc´s expression. “Faya´s origins,” she corrects herself,and Isaac is more than grateful. “It all begins with this woman cursing the city...no witch curses a city for no reason.”

“She was burned to death,” Isaac interjects in a dark tone.

“Right, and what did she do?” Adam adds in the conversation. “Look, no one goes burning people without a reason, even if it is a flimsy one. If we´re going to go Scooby Doo...everyone has a motivation. Faya being burned is horrible and unexcused, but no one in Brasco seems to be too insane to burn a woman for funsies.” Adam did gesticulate while making his small speech. The voice of reason spoke.

“If she did any crime...does it warrant to be burned?” Isaac counter-asks hotly. His blue eyes glaring at Adam are almost challenging. Adam only offers a sympathetic look and this prompts the fire behind his blue eyes to vail.

“I don't know...she's sure to curse everyone here…” Better hammers the logic one more time. “Look, all I'm saying here is in order to understand Faya and this curse we must look at all angles here. All of them.” Adam is grateful that Candy nods in agreement.

Isaac pouts and agrees. “Fine, I guess you have a point…” Eyes are upon Isaac. What Faya did? “Uhm, can I take a piece of pie first? I´ll tell you the story about doomed love of Faya...I promise,” his tone is a bit sardonic, “and it has no happy ending to anyone”

And off he goes to the kitchen. Adam and Candy didn't follow him. Candy did eat something sweet, and Adam feels no hunger at the moment.

Opening the fridge proves to have many options for a nice snack. Oh, but the pie looks delicious, almost tempting. 

**ISAAC!**

_Mother! Wanna pie._

**_No_ ** **and you shouldn't either...this pie is just for your father.**

_Why?_

Faya didn't reply. Isaac takes a small slice and puts one smaller piece of one small slice of this pie in his mouth. It was sweet. It was an unknown flavor.

_Is it a combination of sweet flavors?_

The first bite was tentative, after all, what if the pie was bad? His father likes some odd flavors here and there. However, the first bite was more than approved. Isaac moans in delight as he took another bite- and soon, the boy is trying to understand the flavor. It;s something sweet, but which type? 

Suddenly, his teeth stop moving. His tongue remains still as his mouth opens slightly, and now his tongue reveals a small piece of a thumb in the pie. Isaac spit all in less than a second. Letting the pie fall to the ground reveals a nice pair of small pieces of fingers.

LOOKING AT ISSAC. LOOKING AND LOOKING.

Candy and Adam arrive in seconds. No questions are made as Candy is sadly the one to spot the fingers. Staring and staring. Adam puts his hand over his mouth and one thought comes to his mind.

**_WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!_ **

Meanwhile, in the central park of Brasco, the first lady has to put her best acting and pretend to be happy to see strangers in the central park. Sophie can smile and wave and be really extroverted with some tourists. “Aren't you Sophie? That famous actress?” She never once rolls her eyes.

Suddenly, a flock of tourists stop talking to Sophie-stop asking embarrassing questions about her past- and are heading to the group of friendly cops offering free pies to anyone. Now, Sophie is a big fan of pies. Especially the ones with such sweet aroma- Mrs. Curlem before being taken away used to make such sweet aromas- her stomach is making loud opinions about the pies. Yet, Sheriff Duncan is the one giving free pies.

Her stomach has common sense now.

The cops operate in silence. Charming smiles speak volumes. Sophie marches towards Duncan. “hi, where do those pies come from?” she makes this no secret and people are looking at her as if this is a show. For some, it is just that.

Duncan, like always, is writing something in his notebook-Sophie can't see his penmanship nor is something one should- until his eyes dark as it is locked into Sophie´s soft blue eyes. Oh, Sophie has to close her fist and feels her own jaw tightening as Duncan opens a mere smile to her.

“Those? Oh, my own recipe. I thought of making a homage to the Curlems, you know…” Duncan's tone is cheerful, too cheerful. Were he and the Curlems such good friends? And, how would he be happy to see their friends being taken away to a medical facility because they lost their mind with grief? Sophie frowns. Duncan grins.

The smile is too reminiscent of the smile her first and last director gave to her. It`s uncanny in a way.

“Well, I didn't approve no pie. My husband,” she hissed the last part. His eyes lack the cheerfulness now,“didn't either, so take those pies and consult with me next time you want to make a homage to people that got clinical depression because of their missing son!” Her face is heated as her blue eyes stare at him.

“Why?” Duncan puts his notebook in his pocket. “isn't that the point of a homage? To never forget, to always respect the ones we miss?” His grin has a razor-sharp effect as his eyes are too dark and the man is towering her. The height difference is cruel. (“you´ll die in this scene”) grinning and grinning.

(“You´ll die in this scene”)

“Take those pies now.” Her fist is trembling as the man didn't move an inch. Didn´t stop starting and no one is bothered by any of this. “Now!” She repeats, and Duncan waves his hand in dismissal. (“you´ll die in this scene”)

“Sorry, can't do that, Mrs. Summers, how about you try a nice piece of pie? if you don't like it...I'll remove it and you can explain to all those good folks why they won't have free pies.” It´s a bargain. Sophie wants to say no, but she has no such luxury. “Come on, your husband loved those pies...I even delivered a special one just for him.” The grin never left. No one cares.

(“You´ll die in this scene”)

The pie does smell good- a small credit she won´t voice out- and she`s about to taste the flavor when out of nowhere Maria took the pie away from her. She holds her hand and studies Duncan. The man is not smiling anymore.

  
  


“Maria?” Her voice is a bit dazed. The smell of that pie was so good even if it came from Duncan. Looking around she noticed another woman near them. A woman with an eyepatch and looks bemused directly to Duncan.

  
  


“Don't eat the pies!” It’s all Maria said in such an urgent way. “Without free tea,” she completes as she shows the thermo. No one is excited about it, and some are sending disproving looks at Maria. How uncouth. To disrupt a white woman to speak right when they would eat free pie. Sophie has no idea what's going on...Sophie is a fantastic actress.

“Guys, come on, it's free tea! If you guys don't want...I'll take all the tea to myself.” A change in the atmosphere is made. No one thinks it’s uncouth anymore. If a white woman is offering free drinks. No one is talking with Maria.

Sophie sends Maria a look as if saying, “Please, we´ll talk about this. I want answers!”

Duncan watches Sandra. The woman didn't flinch. “Take these goddamned pies out of my face or …”

“Or...the Seer will expose magic?” Duncan's palpable irritability is amusing enough to warrant Sandra to smile fully. “You, Aftermath, play by some stupid rules. Kill me, here and there...if I anger the powerful Seer Witch so much...kill me if you think this will solve anything.” His smile is yellow. His smile is full of fangs.

“Is your name Duncan?” Now she asked, perplexed. Even putting her fingers on her mouth as this seems to be an important question. Demons have many names, knowing any of them means nothing unless you know all of them.

“You could say that.”

“Fantastic, thank you for giving me a piece of you willingly.” Sandra opens another grin snapping her fingers making the pies dissolve. Like flowers. No one, not even the most maniac for pies, would eat this. “Oh, as for killing you...Duncan, I want your death to be painfully slow, you deserve the very best. I promise you.”

The tea is being delivered by Sophie. Such a perfect actress it almost looks as if she's having fun giving tea to strangers. Maria glares at Sandra. 

“It was this you saw in your vision?” Maria asked, taking everything at once. Demons, Yog-Sothoth and cannibalism are too much if you´re not a witch. “Shouldn´t you burn the demons right here and now?”

Sandra frowns lightl but is quick to change this expression.A neutral expression is more fitting for a seer.

Now, she has the right mood to reply. “I´m a Seer witch. I´m not supposed to interfere in some plots.” This answers nothing. “If I reveal magic to them, to this pathetic and decaying city...you really think me, a black woman, will be received with open arms? You think you´ll be received with open arms.” Her lonely eyes glare at Sophie one last time. “One white friend doesn't mean the entire white community will be so open minded.”

Maria says nothing. Sandra continues.

“I´m sounding bitter? I love a man that is white, I know good men exist, but I also know bad people with their privileged lives are quick to judge and even quicker to act as if they´re holy than you.” Sandra shakes her head. “People can be shitty, people can be wonderful. People are worth saving. I do give a damn about this planet even if it is so imperfect. Guess, I´m team gives a damn after all.” Sandra almost chuckles. Almost.

Maria took a small potion out of her pocket. “You know what this is?” The concoction has a red liquid and its frask is so small that fits Maria´s hand nicely. “I´m a good potioneer and I can make more than sleeping potions. Tell me, why can't I throw the bomb at demons right here and now and save the city?”

“Because...think about hydra, if you cut one head, two will grow.” Her lonely eyes follow Maria and then spot Sophie who is scratching her head as people are visibly sleepy. “You have a weapon in your hands.” She points to the small potion. “Know how to use it...your family will need you more than ever!” She concludes with one line. “We're all in this together.”

Maria closes her eyes and nods. “You won't vanish into the air?”

“Oh, Maria, If only I had this power…”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The smell of pines, fresh soil, and something too wild and sugary in a sense of how a carnivorous plant would attract prey with a pleasant smell. How the last thing the prey would see would be the petals closing. Right now, the trio is at the heart of Brasco woods.

The 3 kids are tossed in the ground. No, not really, Adam is the only one standing still. Candy notices this. _One problem at time_. Isaac spits all he eats in regards to the pie, all of it, while mumbling almost like a madman something regards to mother and how could she.

“Isaac!” Candy offers help but her eyes turn to Adam who is watching a pair of thick trees- looking too alien to Candy, the roots almost look tendrils and it almost looks as if ...they have eyes- “Adam, we need to leave now!” The tone couldn´t be more urgent.

There are no sides to pick. She repeats this mantra a few times as she goes to Adam. “Adam, are you ok?” 

The boy turns to see Candy with his dark eyes- darker than normal- gesturing the trees. “Technically speaking, this could be a great place for a bear to show up...many scientists say bears have a fantastic instinct to survive and to hunt.” His finger points to some location.

Candy is about to snap about bears. They were teleported to the heart of Brasco´s forest. Who cares about bears?

A loud growls. Too animalistic to be ignored and too raw to be anything remotely related to this forest. Another loud growl is heard, and it makes no importance if the sound belongs to something from this forest or not, all it matters is one thing, a giant bear comes out of nowhere.

Candy is stepping back. The bear was huge, walking on 4 legs and she can only imagine how big the bear will be if he goes by 2 legs. Arching one eyebrow, Candy notices a few things-time sure run slower when you're facing danger- and she can list the them:

**1- The bear is too cartoonish. You can see it is a bear alright, but its fangs, eyes and even fur looks too cartoonish. Like it’s a parody.**

**2-Isaac continues to murmur something under his breath.**

**3- Adam is pointing at the bear and throwing some factoids as if it is a lecture or something. Completely mesmerized by the bear.**

**4- The bear is not moving an inch.**

Brown eyes land on Adam one last time as the boy concludes his presentation-the bear got bigger if possible- and still not moving an inch. 

Isaac is too impatient, too stubborn and too afraid to let himself be killed by a bear. “If she wants to play like this.” His eyes harden. He takes the palm into his mouth and bites. Wincing and wailing hard as blood drops from his lips.

Candy recoils as she watches the blood turn black.

With his lips cover in the blackest blood. It's time to speak. “Burned Witch, if you're hearing me..make the bear go away. I offer my blood to you.” And nothing happens. Adam stops looking impressed at the bear to Isaac.

He does the procurement again. “Burned Witch, Faya, if you can't take the bear...let us fight him.” And again nothing. Hot tears fall from his face.

For some unknown reason, Candy took 3 steps to the right and found a sword laying there. Waiting to be used.

_One problem at time._

____________________________________________________________________________________

After one happy meal later, Merida is back drifting to Brasco whose tourists are outnumbered and Merida could almost chuckle at this hypocrisy. _They hate outsiders but not their money. Capitalism at finest, I guess. Her eyes take each sight of the tourists and notice the cops making a small commotion._

_I'll have to do something about those demons but ...not now!_

Her proverbial list to do is getting bigger. 

She skips the festivities and the looming concern about demons gathering - Her lips are in a thin line as the demons are up to no good, yet she can't interfere- and enters into the forest of Brasco. The forest has open arms and you may never leave it...if you aren't careful.

Her new face,a square face with heterochromia. One blue and one dark and her red hair is now long and curly, almost a mockery of a Disney princess. Almost. She's not wearing any fancy dress or anything remotely attractive to Dinsey´s standards.

Into the woods and into the heart of Faya. Merida is leisure taking a stroll to each scene of the forest. No animals, no sounds as the forest is watching. Old blood arrives should the forest greet her or ignore?

Whatever was the decision, and Merida knows they took a decision, her attention snaps as she sees a familiar face. Agent Theo Smith is near a thick tree where its roots are covered in blood. “It eats something big and…” his feet indicate a discreet pile of bones near. “Its appeased ...for now.”

Merida has a blank expression. “Please, Theo, don't try mansplaining. Not a good look on you.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Why are you here? If you plan to cut the killing tree...you'll need more than an axe,” she teases and Theo ignores her as he takes many steps away from the tree. The tree is satisfied but the blood is oozing.

“I have a date with a bear,” Theo says this in the most dramatic way as humanly possible. Merida narrows her eyes.

“Are you cheating on Sandra with a bear? Damn…” Shaking her head and making a tsk sound loud enough prompts Theo to gaze upon the red hair. Now, the woman lets her smile die and offers a grumpy expression. “Tell me your secrets, agent Theo Smith.” Her tone is stiff and Theo is bemused.

So bemused his reply is in part with such expression. “What are you doing?” Merida breaks into a grin. 

“I mean, I was trying to channel Sandra´s inner cat grumpiness. Was I successful?” Merida asks, crossing her arms.

“No, the original is better!” The blushing is running through his cheek and neck. “Wait, you´re a shapeshifter...if you want to tease me...why not change into her face? It would improve your number.” Theo scratches his head a little watching as Merida shrugs off.

“Look, first off…” She stops and makes sounds of whip. “You´re so whip, my dude, and second...I´m not completely human and I use a white skin because it is a great disguise…” Her eyes are hardened now. “I may not be human but I know Sandra deserves way more respect than a poor attempt of black face. Sandra is a powerful, smart, and important witch. I have nothing but respect for her and I´ve nothing but joy in teasing your love story a little,” she concludes, gazing upon the sky. “We witches must stick together, I think”

Theo hums as his eyes take the scene in. The leaves are changing colours as well as shape. Wouldn't be too worth notice if it wasn't by the fact the leaves are disintegrating in plain air. Right before his eyes.(THinking) The forest of Brasco is filled to the brim with...something else and that's something new and dangerous...that's something new.

Theo lifts his fist lighting as the shadows are coming closer. Merida is no longer teasing as her eyes are traveling right and left. “Something is not right here…” A bear roars too loud. 

Merida is no longer messing around. Her eyes change colour to a more vibrant gold shade possible. “And coming from here...it is not something good. It never is!” 

The forest is alive. The forest has welcome arms to everyone. Everyone can be a victim, and right now, the forest is asking to help. 

The roars are getting louder and louder until the two adults reach the source of such sounds. The roots of some trees are moving its way and hiding from the shadow causing Merida to frown even more. “If the roots are hiding...imagine the other creatures.” 

They located the 3 kids being cornered by a nightmarish grizzly bear. Its teeth are straight up fangs and its eyes are soulless and devoid of any feeling. No bear would ever look like this. The bear is not moving an inch.

Theo studies the situation. His fists shimmering and regretting not asking for more details from Sandra.

_But the animal is not moving an inch?_

_If it breathes ...it’s alive._

Merida takes a knife and looks up to the sky. “Forest, I want to make a deal with you, get rid of this bear and I shall let you devour my right hand.” A current of wind passes to Merida dropping the knife. Merida tsks again. “Yeah...just want to make sure, Theo...you really have a date with this bear” 

Theo´s glowing fists meet the creature's face in a minute. One punch, one hole in a nick of time. Theo didn´t break a sweat nor eye contact with the creature. Merida takes the kids behind her as she watches the fight. One punch, one hole again.

“The fuck is that?” Theo shouts and punches the bear again and again. The bear, creature or whatever it is, always regenerates as quick as Theo´s punch.

Merida has some theories. Merida also has no time. Her now green eyes turn to the girl holding a sword and looking completely out. Oh, she did notice the blond boy bleeding black blood. _One problem at time._

“Hey, kid...if you don't want to do it...let me do it, I´m experienced in using my own sword,” Merida explains. Her eyes notice the other two boys but one problem at time. Candy shakes her head. **_Isaac made this sword out of his blood!_ **“Then strike the bear when I say so…”

Candy nods. Having no room to argue here.

Theo continues to punch the creature and continues to get the same results. Merida claps her hands and whistles in a wolfish way. The creature turns its bigger head to Merida. “Hey, do you wanna go back home, Winnie the Pooh?” She claps her hands again as this time a soft golden glow emanates from it. 

Merida looks at Candy. “Now, strike it,” Merida watches as Candy strikes the bear. There´s no blood, no flesh, only nothing. The girl let the sword fall to the ground once the bear was really gone.

Sighing dejectedly, the woman raises her right hand and whistles again. The sword flies directly to her right hand.“I haven't used this for 200 years...Oh, yeah, I gave this to Faya...she told me it was garbage and I told her...well, no one is forcing you to keep it and she kept anyone,” Merida chats in an amicable tone.

Isaac is trembling looking at his black blood. His eyes look hollow and a cold sweat invades his body. “I don´t understand.” His voice is thin and weak. Adam and Candy are unsure of what to do. Can they trust two strangers? The usual answer is no, but Isaac is bleeding something not related to blood.

The two adult exchange looks. Talking with children is an art. How does one talk with a random child, let alone children, without being perceived as a nutcase? Merida and Theo aren't sure. At the same time, they can't ignore the children.“Ok, let's introduce ourselves. I'm Merida, a Shapeshifter witch. The bear you 3 saw was a creation of ….cosmic energy.” She points at Theo. “And this is agent Himbo.” Theo rolls his eyes. Theo didn't deny it.

“Cosmic energy? What the hell is this?” Adam speaks, and Candy stares at him by the corner of her eyes. Adam´s eyes aren't so dark anymore. Questions are popping up in her mind.

“Beats me! Metaphorically speaking, please, don't beat me. Look, if that bear was not natural, and while some witches can make living things it would require some, uhm, let's say payment for this.” _Let's leave the gore details out of this conversation with KIDS!_

Isaac is the one to pipe in. Again. “To make a living thing, you must give up something of equal value, that's why creating things by witches is something hard to come by...was that what led her to be burned?” His voice is raspy and winced again.

Adam took his hands and slowly but surely the dark blood goes back to its natural and human color until the wounds are healed. Isaac looks grateful, too shocked to properly think. “Brasco is an odd place...and I'm tired of bears.” A weak joke. Isaac can´t help to smile a little. Candy watches Adam unsure.

_Are you the one who made this bear?_

A clumsy introduction was given by the children. Theo is staring at Isaac and Adam. Two boys who faced such an ordeal to be thinking straight, yet Theo can´t help to stare at them. There's something wrong with those boys. No, there's something wrong with this boy Adam. Theo does not like it.

Theo did inquire about the black blood. Theo got no real answers. Only a few murmurs about a burned witch. Merida frowns at this. _Faya...this is not your doing or is it?_

Merida holding the sword lazily “Hey, agent himbo.” And Theo will hate himself later for looking up. “Just to show we´re on the same side...wanna hold my sword?” Theo will later hate himself. Once accepting the gift. He accepted the small curse.

“Sit, Himbo!” And Theo did just that with the sword still on his hands. “You gave your consent to hold it, so now stay sit.” She winks at him.

She goes to the kids. She keeps a distance from them-she's well aware she's a complete stranger- “Kid, Isaac, right? Look, Faya is a witch who is tormented and is tormenting this city. Putting her on a pedestal is never wise, nor is it wise to start to blame her for all the problems here...there are more things going on than just Faya,” Merida explains.

The boy says nothing. Merida wasn't expecting much.

Theo is still seated and looks grumpy.

She claps her hands. Wrong move as she had to explain she's not doing any magic. “I do this when I'm nervous. Intention is everything, anyway, kids...are you trying to investigate what happened to Faya?” They nod. “I should say don't do it, is too dangerous” 

Adam throws a look at Candy. He's being ignored.

“However, 3 witches in a quest is really powerful. The number 3 is powerful...so, all I can say is ...be careful.” She taps her forehead for a moment. Her eyes are now golden, and her hair is crimson. “You guys have a finder! That´s rare!”

Merida was waiting for the questions to arise. What´s a finder? Who are you? Can you teach us magic?

Nothing.

“Uhm, I know what a finder is. I always knew I was one and the name is pretty much self-explanatory,” Candy replies tilting her head. “And are you a shapeshifter?” 

“Shapeshifters are rare, really rare,” Isaac interjected and a bit impatient

“Are you here to be our Mentor?” Adam asked confused.

“Hecate, NO!” Merida shakes her head. Making her point come across. “ Just saying. 3 is a powerful number...and me and agent Himbo here are also investigating...we want to save Faya and this city. We´re team we give a damn.”

“We have a witch-boy,” she points to Isaac. “We have a finder,” Candy shrugs off. Now, her eyes linger to Adam. “Oh, boy we have a healer.” She confirms this fact as she goes to Theo. Back faces to the kids, eyes full on Theo.

Merida takes the sword from Theo´s hands. The man rose and acted as if this never happened. The two adults guide the children to safety. The moon is back and it's watching and watching them.


	8. Chapter 8

N/A: Here we go. This chapter has spooky themes. I think. Don´t forget to REBLOG IT, if you like art or writing, please, DO REBLOG IT.

  
  


His office is shaped to be proper. It was built and reformed by his grandfather and never once has any member of the Summers´s household ever dared to move an inch of such a place. For his part, Titus thinks burgundy is a decent choice for an office.

Burgundy was one of the few colors his mother despised.

Burgundy was the favorite color of his beloved sister, Beatrice.

A grin curls into his face. “It was your color, Beatrice, you always looked stunning.” His eyes dart to a picture of his lovely sister. Beatrice Summers was so beautiful, not even death could have ruined such a fact.

The man drops his weight on the chair. The chair makes a typical sound to such motion but thankfully, didn't break or show any cartoonish sight. Just a man sitting on his chair and letting sleep take his mind.

_ Let my mind go to Dreamland this time… _

A feeble request that is easy to ignore, after all, Titus has no mind to have lucid dreams. 

His eyes are too heavy now. Sleep is imminent as well, his mind drifting to Beatrice Summers wearing her favorite dress. A dress in the burgundy shade.

_ Oh, you were always so beautiful, my darling sister. _

(Dream/ Flashback)

_ Titus is a young man again. His blue eyes are shimmering with his uncheck ed youth. Oh, such a notion is noble for men. Such a notion is pitiful for young women. Young men in Brasco are ambitious and believe to have the world in their hands. Women are just silly naive things, never arrogant or ambitious. _

_ Lucinda Summers is tightening her lips. The crimson lipstick is smeared on the right side, causing her eyes to narrow for a moment. A thumb cleans the imperfection. The inspection lasts a minute until she nods. “Perfect, Harold...are you ready?”  _

_ Lucinda has blonde hair perfectly combed. Her winning smile is augmented by a crimson lipstick. Her blue eyes have a perfect and well-done mask and her dress is a blue that matches with her eyes and molds her body appropriately. _

_ His father, Lionel Summers, is well dressed. His blue- a different shade from Lucinda to the point people hardly recognize his color as blue- eyes show nothing more than contempt. “Do we have to go to this stupid party?'' His tone is gruffy as his posture is lazily sitted in a chair. _

_ “Yes, dear. We must, and if you want to complain all the way...you´re welcome to be alone in this house. Do you want that?” Lucinda´s honey tone is enough to make his posture change. His posture, not his feelings about the party. _

_ “No, but that party...The Calders have one of the lamest parties all Canada could ever imagine, eh.” His tone leaves no room for arguments. _

_ “True, but we´re socially obligated to be there...so, be on your best behavior.” Shhe claps her hands together. “Plus, we´re one of the important families in this community. A pillar, if you´ll...the party only begins and ends when we arrive.” _

_ Lionel murmurs unintelligible responses. Until the man begrudgingly agrees to behave. A promise is a promise and the Summers keep their word until the end. _

_ Titus arrives in a minute, climbing down the stairs and making no big deal about his looks. Of course, his mother can't let pass an opportunity to flatter her son.  _

_ “Titus, you look so handsome.” She gasps as she notices how his hair is short. “You finally cut your hair...oh, you look so handsome.” She takes a camera and takes a few pictures of her son, of her husband and themselves. _

_ “Ok, we´re all here. Can we go now?” The father asked, not minding to check himself in the mirror. He looks presentable enough in his mind, so, no need to change. It will be a boring party anyway...why bother? _

_ Titus looks around and asks only one thing. “Where´s Beatrice?” The question has no real answer. No real emotion aside from Titus´s concern. _

_ The older Summers look up to see their only daughter slowly climbing down the stairs. _

_ Lucinda choses this moment to look at her watch. “Girl!” There's a slightly hostile tone. “Where were you? We can't be late for this party.” Lionel rolls his eyes. The mother is avaliating how her daughter is presenting herself.  _

[ _ A straps high low lace dress  _ ](https://br.pinterest.com/pin/Ad-vRGY8dzdniJ1R3BkxxDZQiwYIfrcJD-W4oSrjDfj0vxPI0Rzd_OQp68bY33QDMrr1jVQDECx7F_G9uj2YcKE/?nic_v2=1a7hmwCak) _ the dress is color in one colour only, burgundy, and appears to be formal for any occasion, however, Lucinda frowns as her eyes goes up and down to the dress. It could have been more formarl in her opinion. _

_ She frowns again once noticing the lack of make-up and how the blonde hair is brushed without any style. The shoes, however, really don´t match the dress. The image of a defeacted Barbie comes to Lucinda´s mind. The frowns has to leave or else she´ll get wrinkles too earlier. _

_ Lucinda massages her temples. Lionel shrugs and Titus has a big smile on his face. “You look lovely, Beatrice.” His words escape from his mouth. ONly his words are direct to Beatrice with kindness. The rest of the eyes are judging and disaproving. _

_ Beatrice took a small flask from her purse and used on her neck in higher doses. A scentless perfume it seems. _

_ “Mom, dad...do you love me now?” she asked, almost pleased and almost hopeful. Lionel didn't hear the question-his mind were miles away, trying to brace himself to the dullest party ever- and only responded absently.  _

_ “Of course, it’s a pretty dress.” The response was too mechanical and clinical, causing Beatrice to bite her lips and ask the question again, this time, presing one last time on the perfume.  _

_ “Stop this melodrama, Beatrice, we need to go to the party,” urges the mother unkindly, tsking her tongue _

_ “You look beautiful, Beatrice. I love you,” he states, and Beatrice regards him strangely. Titus touches her hair. “You really look pretty.” _

_ Lucinda stop this interaction by pointing a finger to Beatrice´s face. Her smile is place but lacks any kindness. Her eyes are sharp as her voice is low. “Look, you´ll not embarrass us, not tonight.” keeps piinting her finger at Beatrice in firm way. Her words are doing most of the mental violence needed here. _

_ “No more stupid talk about magic, look at me.” Lucinda threatens holding her shoulders. “You´ll be a good girl in this party and not do anything strange. It’s because of your behaviour no one wants to be your friend. Tonight, you´ll be a nice and behaving lady, won´t you?” She concludes with a rhetorical question. “The school thinks you´re stupid and I have to agree…” _

_ “Do you love me...mother?” Beatrice asked in a watery tone. _

_ Lucinda rolls her eyes. She tosses a mechanical response and then urges them to go to the car. _

_ “Mother, we should take a picture of Beatrice too...she looks pretty and I'm sure she´ll be the Belle of the ball.” His words are directed to Beatrice only. _

_ Lucinda took the photo. Not to mention much about Beatrice, rather, she flatters her only son. _

_ “Aren't you a considerate son?” _

_ Titus should preening like any good son should. His eyes are only on Beatrice. Throughout the entire trip, his blue eyes are paying attention to his sister´s moves. She's still passing the scentless perfume. _

_ The Calders´s party was fascinating for older adults and the previous generations. Not to this generation through. Beatrice Summers is the only one donned in red. The others are wearing something lighter. Beatrice Summers is alone. _

_ No one seems to pay any mind to Beatrice. Like usual. _

_ Titus did. Too much. _

_ Lucinda is the center of the talk. Her voice is cheerful and the other people enjoy her presence. She has no time to waste on her lonely daughter. _

_ Beatrice sees all the people dancing, having fun, while she is ignored. For a typical dance in Brasco only requires you to take the hand of your partner if he or she offers...no one is offering to Beatrice as usual. _

_ Until Titus shows up. He offers his hand. He takes her hands before any protest can be made. Oh, well. She wanted to dance anway. _

_ The melody of the song playing now is lovely. A pop song repeating lines such as “lalalala” and “baby”. It is fun music and Beatrice would love to say she's enjoying the party- she's watching Jacques Calders dancing with a pretty girl whose dress is yellow.  _

_ She wants to have fun. _

_ She wants to be loved… _

_ She doesn't want her brother´s hands on her body so intimately. _

_ “Stop, Titus” she begins softly. No need to make a scene here. After all, her brother must only enjoy the song too much to pay attention to everything else. _

_ His hands continue. Her body now seems stuck on his. _

_ “Please, stop it.” _

_ The song morphs into something more romantic. Jacques Calders is still dancing with the woman in a bright yellow dress. _

_ Titus´s hands are getting dangerously low now.  _

_ No one notices. No one cares. _

_ “I said...STOP IT.” She slaps his face. Now, this gathers everyone's attention. Lucinda has a mix of disappointment and anger written in her face. Lionel is apathetic, and people are flocking towards Titus. No one is paying any mind to Beatrice. _

_ She fled from there. Running. Not thinking and not wishing. _

_ How long has she walked aimlessly in Brasco? _

_ For how long has she noticed all the odd shapes and colours of this place? _

_ “She was right...I should have listened to her.” Beatrice let hot tears fall from her eyes. The forest of Brasco always has open arms. Always. _

_ “BEATRICE!” Titus somehow manages to find her, puffing and catching his breath for a minute. “Are you ok?” _

_ She can only shake her head. “Of course not. I thought this perfume would make people notice me...but you can't use magic to make people love you...Faya is right.” Beatrice states sadly. _

_ Titus frowns. Who is this Faya? _

_ “Faya? Look, let's go home...Beatrice, everyone is worried about you.” _

_ “After or before you tried to grope me?” Her anger melts away. “It’s not your fault. It’s the perfume. The fault is on me. I shouldn't have even asked this from Faya.” This time such a name is said with a grin. “Maybe the best for everyone is for me to go live with her...not cut out to be Beatrice Summers. Maybe, I can be something else.” _

_ “Bea, I love you.” _

_ “Titus...stop…” _

_ “Please, I know it is strange...but I can't help myself...I feel you´re made for me. I love you so much far more than a brother should.” Titus grabs her and tries to kiss her lips. It fails, and Beatrice wiggles herself away from him. She can slap and name-call him for all she wants. _

_ Can she truly blame him? _

_ After all, it was a stupid magic perfume that must have caused him to go crazy...if she leaves...Titus will be alright.  _

  
  


_ (Fin) _

Titus opens his eyes to see the portrait of his beloved sister. “Oh, you´re still beautiful, Beatrice...even in my memories…” His tone is forlorn, defeated. The man looks away from the painting.

His remorse is too palpable.

His remorse is too strong.

His remorse is clouding his senses and blinding his eyes to the looming darkness behind.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The foundation for a good secret is rather simple. No one can tell your secret if they're dead. If you happen to ask Maria about Brasco-not many clients do. Not many clients want or need to know how a tea can make them fall asleep 8 to 10 hours easily- the Brazilian woman can tell how every secret in the world comes here to die.

The brief story of Brasco reeks colonization. Many countries have a bloody story, and Maria knows some secrets won't stay buried for longer. The text books tell there were no natives when the French colonizers and later, the English colonizers arrived. They never said this land was empty.

(Thinkin) Maybe not indigenous...but maybe...other people used to live here...maybe it was more than just humans.

Jacques once mentioned how this city was built with promises and nothing more. Jacques made many promises to Maria, and Death was too impatient to let him make right on his words.

Jacques was a good friend to Maria, and is Candy's father. Such death made the rest of the Calder family want to believe he ran away with a Norweigan beauty rather than being 6 feet under the ground. Maria has to scowl herself as her mind has now grimier options for her friend.

_ There's something wrong with Brasco… _

_ And I have a feeling my kids are involved in this. _

Maria´s brown eyes side glance to the right where Sophie is still. Sandra is a witch. Witches never lie and thus, Sophie has the clear picture of what almost happened in this small park. Blue eyes travel to brown eyes.

“So...magic is real. Demons are real...and the pies have extra meat. The sweater flesh of all mankind?” Her smile is nervous. Her eyes are flicking side to side as her hands are fixing an imaginary stain on her impeccable dress. “Look, what she said was true?”

Maria cocked one eyebrow. “I never lied to you, Sophie. Magic is real, very real…” Her words have a longing as her mind gives flashes of a male figure. Her old father is nothing but fragments in her memory. “Magic is real, and Brasco is very much cursed. Something awful happened here”

Sophie opens and closes her mouth.

Maria can pity her. Maria can still love her even when she notices how her entire figure is shivering a little. It is not that cold anymore.

_ A potioneer that loves is a rare thing. Papai sempre me disse isso...ou estou imaginando. _

Sandra remains stoically calm, waiting, as her eyes are focused on the forest.

“Well, yes...but I thought it was a metaphor, you know?” She offers a nervous smile. “So, what do we do about demons and curses?” Her words were delivered with gasps and anxiety. Maria can still love her friend.

_ A potioner that loves, how rare! _

Sandra interjected, “I know what you´ll say and do is futile. Your fate is intertwined with Maria and us. Magic has a way to unite people in strange ways.” She´s shrugging as this line is delivered. It´s not completely reassuring to Sophie.

Less so when Merida arrives from the woods walking next to a man wearing a suit- Sandra called him Theo. Is his real name?- as 3 familiar faces storm out to Maria and Sophie.

“Mãe!” Candy runs towards Maria. The hug is inviting and wordless. A potioneer that loves is such a rare thing.

Meanwhile, Isaac runs to Sophie. The hug is met with cries, some unintelligible words and an even more tight hug follow after. The words little bird come together too.

Adam is on the side. His dark eyes watching the hugs. His head lowered a little.

Someone taps on his shoulder, forcing his eyes to lift up. “Adam, come here...I was worried sick about you and Candy.” Maria has one arm for her daughter and another for Adam. Oh, a potioneer that loves is so rare. 

**_Oh, the mother has open arms._ **

**_Oh, the daughter has open arms, too._ **

“1,2 and 3.” Sandra states nonchalantly as a new figure enters in this picture, metaphorically speaking. Merida´s expression is equally matching with the children as the new welcomer is carrying a heavy book-next to a bag- with her red hair floating with the wind along with one lonely white streak. Issac points out how there's no wind right now. “How is she doing this?”

“Headmistress Karlom?!” The children exclaimed together. The woman mutely waves her hand and then looks at Merida. 

Sophie watches as Lucia Karlom-not a person Sophie can speak to on a regular basis- is not here to be a Headmistress.

“Hello, Merida. Hello...strange people.” Her eyes land on Theo and then Sandra. Then, she notices Maria and Sophie. “And hello to you two as well.”

**A coven and a group are not the same things.**

“So, guess we´re here to do the same thing?” Lucia asked, dubious looking at Sandra and Theo one last time. “If we have two agents of Aftermath.” The kids made some questions about what Aftermath is, but they were ignored for now. “So...we are here to…” she trails off.

She used to be a teacher, and she taught little kids. Lucia is a firm believer in letting children come to the right solution. This can apply to some adults too.

“Kill the Antichrist,” Theo and Sandra said together in perfect harmony. Sandra is holding his hand. Her thumb candidly caressing his palm.

“Break the curse in Brasco,” Merida said too, crossing her arms. “And no more bears.” the children look away, and the mothers won't know what to ask here.

Silence is the answer.

Bewildered is a word to use here as the families are perplexed by these revelations. Sophie stands up and takes Isaac´s hand as she leaves dramatically without looking back. Sophie was a great actress.

Sophie is a great actress.

Unless, Sophie has to be a mother. What she would do to protect the ones she loves?

_ Your character dies in this scene. _

“Wait, isn't the Antichrist linked to the devil?” Sophie hears this line of dialogue and springs faster with her son.

Maria watches Sophie run. Maria takes the hands of Adam and Candy and calmly steps away from the group.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Driving back home is a silent travel drilled with anxieties and what-ifs scenarios. Her mind is multi-tasking: driving and worrying. It’s what makes Sophie such a fantastic actress. It did fly through her mind. A self-deprecating joke or “a blonde joke” are too familiar to the poor woman now.

**How many blondes are needed to know about magic? I´ll tell you once they figure out how to light a bulb.**

Magic was a metaphor that followed her throughout her life.

You see, it was the magic of the couch that landed her into such a role in such a high budget film. It’s what most believe with fervor.

What other magic a blonde girl with blue eyes could possesed to gain such a role with such a prestigious director?

It was magic when her character was promoted as the main character only to be killed in the end for shock value. 

“Your character dies in the end.” It was magic words for the fans, for the studio, and for the director. Not to Sophie.

It was magic how quickly she was blacklisted once she argued, debated, and raged over the fact her death scene almost was almost a real one. “Your character dies in the end” is a magic phrase for the director. So magic that is worth causing harm to the actress.

The magic scene where the character needs to die to motivated the hero is not special anymore, how many sidekicks and love interest were killed in the name of Hollywood? So, the directo work his magic. The result? A real shot in Sophie´s stomach, the scene looked real. The pain was extremely real.

Praise for the director. Complaints to Sophie. That's the magic of Hollywood.

Having nothing left in the US, it was almost magical that Brasco opened their doors for her. She became a doting mother and a loving wife. A sweet life and one is cherished everyday by Sophie.

Her character wouldn't ever get such a happy ending. Even if she didn't have died in that scene.

“Mom?” Isaac asks with his big eyes on Sophie. They´re already facing their home, yet no one is leaving the car. His hands touch his mother's shoulder for a minute until the sounds of sobs are decreasing and decreasing.

“I'm fine,” she lies like a perfect actress. “I need a minute. That's all.” It’s a promise. Isaac shakes his head, not believing and not finding the right words either.

“You know, magic is real but it was supposed to punish the guilt,” Isaac states after taking a deep breath. His eyes are on his mother. Her puffy red eyes are too similar to his. “Magic will not hurt us.” Isaac clenches his jaw and closes his hand in a fist. His words must mean something. It has to be.

Sophie and Isaac look at the once Curlem´s household. Cats are living and watching. Judging mortals like any normal cat does. The fact the Curlems used to be deadly allergic to cats still haunts Sophie´s mind. Isaac looks away from the house.

“Ok, ok...I…” she trails off unsure. A fake winning smile loses any shine if your son can see through one of your lies. Taking a deep sigh, Sophie tries smiling again. This time without glamour. “This day is crazy, Isaac, too crazy.”

Motherhood is magic. It was a line from a card she once received. Now, she wonders if the person was being literal or not.

The car's doors are open and quickly closed with more strength than it was necessary. The boy doesn't comment on this. Sophie holds his hand and goes to the door, taking another deep breath.

“Mom...if Dad is not here...it won't be a big deal” Isaac replied boldly.

Sophie's eyes widen as she shakes her head vehemently. “Don't EVER say this. He's your father and…” she refuses to cry. There's a golden rule about actresses that cry too much in certains scenes. After a while, it gets tacky. “Don't say that again.” Her tone gets angry.

At Isaac? At herself? At Brasco? 

Isaac looks away too petulantly. Sophie notices that. Sophie has priorities ruling her mind now.

Sophie screams and cries her name. Isaac did nothing. The man shouted from the kitchen and the woman thinks nothing as she goes to see her husband. Titus is cleaning the kitchen and sends a reproving look to his only son. “Isaac, you should…” and stops when Sophie hugs him as if her life is on the line.

She enacts a kiss.Titus can taste some of her recent tears, and his eyes open. To see her puffy red eyes of his dear wife.

Isaac remains in the kitchen. His father was cleaning something. Where were all the pieces of thumbs? Where was his own vomit?

“Sophie, is everything ok?” Titus asks letting his fingers wipe her stubborn tears. Letting his other fingers put one of her hair locks behind her ear. A gestire that soothes Sophie. See, her famous character never had anyone to do such small but kind gesture, however, Sophie has someone like that.

The woman shakes her head. Oh, how does one explain what she witnessed?

“We need to leave Brasco...this place is cursed. You, me, Isaac, Maria and her kids...we need to leave now,” she prompts urgently, tugging his hand and ready to guide him to the exit.

The image of Maria plays in her mind. Magic is real. Maria is still Maria, isn't she? For all the time they know each other, Maria never turned her into a frog.

Titus pulls away. The man gives a concerned look to his wife. “What do you mean? The city is safe...I made sure of that.” There´s a pride in his tone. He made sure the city is safe by working non-stop. Brasco is safe. Brasco is safe. Titus made sure of and Titus belives this with all his soul. Titus needs to repeats those words more than once to seem real.

Isaac shot him a mean glare and muttered something under his breath. No one pays him any mind. No one pays attention to what children have to say. It´s something Isaac is used in a small city. 

Isaac´s eyes still scan the flooring. Where were the fingers?

  
  


“What? Look, just trust me, let's leave tonight...while we still have time,” Sophie begs him. “You, me, Isaac, Maria and the kids...we need to leave.” The heroine must always try to save her family, no matter what.

“You feel unsafe?” Titus inquiries. A knowing smile takes place into his lips. “I´m here, darling, I'm here to protect you from any danger. Haven't I done this since the first day?” It’s a rhetorical question if you ask Titus.

Sophie loves her husband very much. Has he?

“Yes...but…” she trails off and Titus puts a finger on her lips. A loving gesture, for sure. 

“I'm here. I'll always protect you.” And he kisses her gently. Isaac rolls his eyes again. The sound of such kiss is annoying to any teenager. The kiss stops, and Sophie has a tiny smile gracing her lips.

_ It will be alright...it will be alright. _

“My beloved Beatrice,” he said with such love, such wanton that could make a woman feel flattered and loved in a minute. Except, Sophie´s name isn´t Beatrice. She pulls away from him in a minute.

“What did you just call me?” Her face flares up in anger. She looked to see a picture of Beatrice-it was Beatrice as Sophie never recalled wearing that dress- and back at her husband.

_ What husband would mistake a wife for his sister? _

“Dad, what happened to the human fingers in the pie?” Isaac finally resonates the question plaguing his mind. After all, no one would be so chill in picking pieces of human fingers on the floor, right?

Titus blinked and titled his head. “What are you talking about? What pie?” Then Isaac notices they are no longer in the kitchen.

“Titus! you called me Beatrice,” exclaimed Sophie. She parrots this line again. 

Titus tilts his head and denies such claims. 

_ Your character dies in the end _

Sophie notices all the photos of Beatrice. Uncanny how they're similar. Uncomfortable how her husband thinks so too. Now, recalling she's no longer in the kitchen. She doesn't recall ever leaving the kitchen.

She is outside the house along with Titus, Isaac, and herself. The car is gone and so is the Curlem’s house. The cats remain to judge.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

What's the difference between a group and a collection? The first works together, the latter just fills space. A coven can never be just a collection. A coven is more than a group.So far, Sandra, Theo, Merida, and Lucia have their eyes on different pictures.

4 people gathering together is nothing new to Brasco. Not without the fire.

“Let me do it,” Theo commences tapping Sandra´s shoulders. The seer taps his hands back in a kind way as she nods. Theo, for his part, creates a bonfire thanks to the magic in his vein. “Uhm, I didn't bring a lighter...sorry.”

The flames dance at the gesture of Sandra´s hand. Merida looks away-muttering something about traditions sucking- and Lucia looks at the fire so intense that one may imagine she's having a vision. “No vision...just wondering when was the last time a witch was near a bonfire without any worry,” Lucia responds coolly.

“Brasco is built with empty promises...so, I think we can count our blessings here...or whatever,” Merida says nonchalantly.

“I'm here in this city for a few days ...I couldn't agree more,” Sandra replies bemusedly. Theo nods as the flames stop dancing. The fire looks static. Then, the fire turns blue as Merida tosses something into the fire.

“Hecate will be pleased we´re here. I think.” Lucia takes the word. “Now, as the session is in order,let's begin.I think we’re the strangest coven Hecate could ever hope for.”

Merida interjects. “In New Orleans, they’re even weirder. They were the ones facing the Dream Demons...bunch of odd folks. Got nice beer, through,” Merida concludes. Theo shakes his head at this.

“Do you love beer more than anything?” It’s a silly question to make. 

“Of course!” Her face counternour to resemble a woman with pale skin. Long raven hair and a short melancholic expression. She points at her face and waits for the answers. 

No one replies.

“No one here recognizes Faya?” There’s a pout in her lips as her face changes to the “original” one. 

Lucia nods sagely. “Yes, my bad. I should have recognized the woman who cursed the city and is being used by evil forces to destroy our city, my bad.” She adds. “I remember Faya having short hair though.”

Merida opens her mouth to exclaim. The flames, blue as sapphire, prevent any more discussion. Sandra and Theo watch the scene patiently. Hecate has no time to waste, they should not invoke her name in vain.

“Hecate, we´re here to kill the Antichrist,” Sandra begins. The fire is listening.

“So, you´re saying it is impossible to save Faya?” Merida asked hotly. The fire illuminates Merida's face now. Her human mask is slipping through. Small cracks can be seen. “Hecate, I'm here to save a friend of mine. Because I think she still can be saved.Am I wrong to think that way?” She watches as the fire touches the cracks on her face, healing and hiding what no human eye can see. For a moment, her neck was too long and her eyes were just abyss, of course, it was only a moment. Merida´s regular face remains similar to a human.

Lucia interjected anyway. “I think if you asked me this a month ago, I would have said no. Any action to change the inevitable is futile.” A mirthless chuckle escaped her lips. “And you know what? I was wrong. I'm tired of apathy and nihilism. I think we can save Faya. I need to believe that. I´ll break the curse if I must because those who watch the injustice and remain silent are a new type of scum.”

Merida watches as the blue fire touches Lucia. The blue fire is not siding with Sandra or Theo.

Sandra speaks again. “The aftermath is here to kill the Antichrist This thing could be a new threat to the entire universe.” The blue fire refuses to side with them. Merida let the curves of her lips turn into a smile. 

“Kids, first borns are being taken and turned into flowers, those damned crimson anemones...I think this is important,” Lucia speaks hotly for once. 

Theo grits his teeth. He takes the word. “But if the Antichrist is not stopped...If he raises again, he or she, whatever the gender of the beast is, we´ll lose more than a mere city.” His eyes dare to look at the fire. He would even step into the fire if needed- Sandra has to hold his hand tightly- “Because if we don´t ...if we don´t stop that creature...then...all my sacrifice will be truly for nothing.” He looks broken as his weight is being supported by Sandra.

“My parents...my brothers...were victims of a mirror. A mirror made by THEM. Outer Gods. Elder Gods. Something beyond our minds.” His pointy look dared to cross Merida. She remains mute but displeased by the silent judgment. “Please, all I want is to avoid anyone to suffer from what I suffered….the Antichrist is something...it must be destroyed.”

Lucia asks something. “How does the antichrist have anything to do with what happened to your family?”

No answer aside from his burning hate. For the Antichrist or for Lucia for making the question?

Merida interjected, “If the Antichrist made the mirror, which would not be logical but not impossible...rest assured, the mirror is no longer in this plane...it can't be destroyed. Not even by me...but it can be banished.”

“Unless that creature brings back,” Theo snaps.

“Yog-Sothoth did make an Antichrist...The key and the door united to create something so above us is...scared. If we don´t kill this creature.” Sandra begins to swallow as she can imagine scenarios worse than Theo´s old house. “There will be no city to save.”

Lucia takes the word.

“And if we can't save a city, how can we save the world?”

Everyone is clearly not prepared for such a question. Sandra puts her fingers together in her forehead as she tries to think of something to say, Theo only carries his past, Merida is looking at the fire.

“You're right…” Sandra states now looking at Theo. “If we can't save a city...how can we save the world?”

Theo wants to argue. Theo really wants to. “If I couldn't save my family, how can I save the city?” His eyes look down until they meet Sandra´s stare again. “I once saved a witch. If I can save a witch...I can try to save a city...for her.”

Sandra smiles and squeezes his hand gently. They kiss tenderly. Merida makes a faux gross-out face and Lucia sighs at the sight.

“So...since we´re all working together...I have two ask two things. Does anyone here read off-colours from Lovecraft? Has everyone noticed the crimson anemones?”

Theo pipes in. “I read some of his works.” Sandra cocked an eyebrow at him. “Really racist and lazy. All his monsters are too great to be described...the terror...yeah, seems lazy to me.” Theo can't help flash a smile. He saw Dagon. He can describe Dagon perfectly...but won't do tonight.

Sandra interjected. “As for the second question, yes. I noticed the flowers. Souls of first-borns,pretty advanced and dark spells. I saw once...impossible to make the souls alive, but we can free them,” Sandra delivers this final line with some tact.

Merida scratches her neck. “Well, better than being a bloody crimson forever. Ok, according to Lucia, the now Hippie MILF,” Lucia throws something at Merida, who dodges and laughs, “to break the curse we need to find the heart...the heart is not in the forest.”

Lucia blinks at this. “Are you sure? Faya loved that forest very much.” A finger is on her chin. “If not in the forest…”

Eyes turned to Sandra. “I´m a seer. I see the future, not the past.”

“Wait!” Theo pipes in. “What about the potioneer and the other woman?” In his mind, this is a big question to make. Sadly, the other witches disagree.

Lucia, Merida point her finger at Theo. “A himbo.”

Theo blinks confused. The blue fire seems to side with them again.

Sandra covers her mouth as she laughs. Her shoulder went up and down as the dimples in her face are visible now. A lovely sight if you ask Theo. 

“They can't leave Brasco. They're stuck here too until it is all over. Guess they've got no choice but be part of this group” Sandra, once calmed down, explained this little information to Theo.

The latter now just accepts.

“Are we a coven or a group?”

“Yes.”

And everyone throws something out of their pocket into the fire. Theo took a card from his pocket. “I respect all the millennial rules of the witches. This card was given to me, so therefore, it is mine to dispose.” The blue fire accepts the small offering.

Lucia just sighs as she mutters how she's the only one who is truly doing the ritual right. “Sandra, he just tossed a card into the fire.”

Sandra nods and takes the same card into the fire. “He broke no rule here. That card was given to me...and I chose to dispose of it.” The blue fire accepts and it combusts in itself.

Merida blinks. “Uhm, why do I have the feelings you guys aren't very happy with the hotel?”

Sandra interjects, ignoring this question. “We´re now working together. Hecate sealed our partnership. It’s all about necessity.”

Merida counter-asks. “So, we´ll be a found family trope?”

“Nope.”

________________________________________________________________________________________

The moon is about to rise in Brasco. The sun is sending a cordial see you soon. If you´re ignorant enough, you can even see this time of the day, sadly for Lucia Karlom, she's not one of the honest townsfolk in Brasco. She can't be ignorant.

Witches by default are cursed with knowledge. A woman too smart is often associated with evil. Lucia could shake her head and silently chuckle to herself. “It’s not as if I can say I was different either.” 

No tourist was giving her attention. No citizen was giving her attention. No eyes on Lucia and for once, that's almost refreshing. She tilted her head for a moment.

_ When was the last time it was refreshing to be in Brasco? _

_ Oh right… _

The high part of Brasco is always a sight you would wish to see in greeting cards. It’s too unreal to Lucia´s eyes. Then again, reality seems fickle lately. Her house is near.

_ A witch must never lie. _

  
  


Her training eyes scanned a familiar figure. Of course, it would be the figure of Sam Karlom. Lucia made that figure, didn't she? A pretty red hair that is pretty as the sin. The young woman is talking with a nameless and faceless cop.

Lucia frowns as the scene unfolds to Sam stopping to chat with the cop to now holding the shirt collar. It´s possible to see her lips quivering as the cop is passive in everything. The worst kind- as her pleads are getting louder.

_ Witches don´t lie. Mothers protect. _

This is enough to make Lucia sprint towards them. Sam is pleading, to the point her voice is no longer human. No one pays attention. No one cares. None one but Lucia.

_ A mother can´t ignore the cries of a child. Her child. _

“Please, look, I´m beautiful, I´m useful.” It’s a pathetic line judging by the reaction of the nameless cop. “I can help the plan. That's why I'm here.” The cop has no name. No face. No reaction.

“We don't need a pretty face. This is not the dark ages...yet, plus, even if we needed a pretty face...you're as replaceable as everyone else.” This prompts the demon to leave, never looking back to Lucia 

“We don't need a pretty face. You're as replaceable as everyone else.” This prompts the man/demon to leave. Never mind Lucia or his own mortality, his words ring true. He's replaceable as Sam is.

Every demon lives to obey the higher law. No demon matters.

Sam falls on her knee, letting her crimson hair fall. Still a sight. Pretty and deadly as the sin. Sam´s red eyes stare at Lucia´s shoes. Glaring daggers at such shoes. “Come to laugh?” She raised her head, still having the same glare. Following with a sinister smile.

“Must hard to see this mask grovelling...or are you that wicked? Are you pleased to see me fall?” Her tongue clicks “All those laws you broke to have a pretty daughter and in the end...all you have is a mask and a demon now. Are you mad?”

Lucia only offers her hand. The demon is mute now.

“Mad? You ask me if I'm mad...no, I´m just too tired. Too tired of apathy, rage and prejudice. I lived this life thinking it would be funny to see all blowing up.” She offers a facsimile of a smile. “Because I thought only then I would be able to see my daughter...here the thing, how can I go to heaven and see my daughter if I have to tell her how I let such evil continue to rule?”

Sam is a demon. Sam also has Sam´s face. She took the hand and is on her feet once again.

“Just to be clear, I´m not a human. I´m a demon. This face is only fooling you”

“Do you pity me? Because ...I have no mask to hide now. In a way, we´re even.”

“No, silly human...you´re still human. I´m still a demon. Never forget how stupid and weak you humans are.” The demon snaps, crossing her arms.

“Sure, sure. We humans made mistakes. We learn from them and make new ones. Come one, tell me the fallacy of humanity while we eat cookies,” Lucia suggested. A ghost of a grin remains.

The nameless demon remains in silence.

Sam wants to test those cookies. It’s only temporary; surely, in the end nothing else matters.

“This city will die, and so will you.”

“Good, immortality sucks.”

“ Those cookies better be good,” groans Sam, accepting being led away by Lucia. It’s only temporary. Only temporary and nothing else.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Full-moons are a bit rare. Otherwise, we would have more werewolves. A full-moon so looming and so luminescent above your very presence is an uncanny feeling. Full-moons are often eyes for THEM to see. 

Merida is more than used to being scrutinized by eyes. By any eyes. 

Merida is tired, so tired.

_ I would love a nice bed… _

Her steps halt for a moment. Her eyes are dark and going right and left. Her face is square again-though it is possible to see some imperfections. Some inhumanly imperfections namely, some scales- The path to the middle ground of Brasco is silent. Too silent. 

Merida is more than used to being watched. Watched by them. 

Her face fell. Oh, not literally...as much it would be tempting. “Look, I can sense you. I can even smell you...get out,” she snaps to the right side of the desert part of this street where a woman steps down from a tree.

**Different face, same attitude!**

A woman with a plain face stare back. Nothing remarkable about her looks although her hair is a dark shade of raven almost similar to Merida´s oldest friend. Almost is a cruel world here.

A grimace took place on Merida. “You know, you´re a terrible stalker.” She puts her finger on her lips momentarily. “Then again...I'm used to things following me.” Her grimace takes a different angle as it’s possible to see her fangs.

Her mask is not falling. Not yet.

The plain looking stalker swallows. Coming forward as her hands are turned into fists as her eyes are hardly focused on Merida. The steps die off, leaving more than 6 degrees of separation among Merida and the stalker. Only one of them is truly afraid.

“My name is Agatha Tremblay. I used to work at the Brasco´s bookstore.” Agatha states in one shot as her face is red. Taking a deep breath as her eyes are focused on the witch in front of her. “I know what you are.” The line was spoken too clumsily.

“A very unimpressed redhead? Cause...that's totally me right now,” Merida replies in a deadpan way.

Agatha´s hands are trembling a little.  _ Just cold, just cold _ . Those hands are messing her hair a lot. Or maybe she has a bad hair type. Agatha has a plain face. Too plain to describe and her hair is recently cut does nothing to stand out Agatha from a crowd. 

_ In a way, it makes me think of Lovecraft, you need to understand how spooky everything is without ever getting any description. _

“I know you're a witch,” Agatha has a cellphone in her hand. Out of the pocket and ready to be used. “And I want to make a deal with you.” Her smile has a maniac glare. Sweat is visible.

Merida only frowns. She remains silent as Agatha swallows and speaks again.

“I know all about your kind.” Agatha´s lips curve in a sneer. “I can give you a place to stay safely if you…” she closes her eyes for a moment. Her jaw stiffens. Opening her eyes, it is no surprise to see Merida so close to Agatha now. “If you make me beautiful as a doll.”

Merida remains silent, too still, too tired to argue.

“Your kind loves to make deals, don´t you?” There's a semblance of desperation as her lips are quivering.

Merida remains still, too tired to argue.

“If you don't help me...then I´ll tell everything to Brasco. We burned a witch before. We can do it again.” It’s not a veiled threat. It’s an open threat

Merida now picks her time to utter some words.

“If you really offer me a safe place to stay, I shall grant your wish. I´ll make you the prettiest doll Brasco has ever seen. All the eyes will be on you,” Merida promised in a clinical tone. “If your part is true. If you truly give me a nice place and safe place, I'll grant your wish.”

Agatha is smiling again. The maniac gleam is too noticeable.

Merida is too tired.

“Will I be prettier than Amy Larsom?” It’s a question laced with hope. It’s a question that disinterest Merida greatly. Only mortals can be petty over a dead body.

“If your word is true...of course, you shall be prettier than this Amy Larsom.”

The walk is no longer lonely, but still silent. As Agatha opens the door of the bookstore-closed thanks to Amy´s situation and the apparent missing or suicide of the mother. The details are so fuzzy and blurry and so unimportant to Agatha. Inside the bookstore, there's an empty room.

Merida shot a quizzical stare.

“Amy sometimes slept here. This is a small room. The bathroom is on the second floor. The sheets are old but clean, and you can sleep without any worries,” Agatha responds. Trying to shrug nonchalantly, sadly for her, her eyes are too frenetic for such a pose. “If you truly can sleep,” she adds the last part as an afterthought.

“I'm as human as you are…” Merida hummed for a moment. “I'm as human as I want to be.” Her smile is animalistic enough, showing fangs enough and proving her point to Agatha. A quick inspection of this room is in order.

Merida hummed again. “Tell me, how you would have warned the entire city I was a witch? I could have burned you to the grounds. Turned you into beautiful,” she adds a bit cruelly, “ashes.”

Agatha scoffs. “Technology is a great thing. Everyone in Brasco has contact with each other.”

Merida nods softly. She looks a tad taller than before. Still on a human scale. Still with fangs.

“How did you know I was a witch?” It is a question made without any importance. Merida stops scrutinizing the room. It’s adequate enough.

Agatha is not shy to reply right away. Maybe, she does want to brag.

“My father had some diaries, journals about your kind. He mentioned about Faya...the things she did. How she tricked Beatrice Summers into taking a love potion/perfume and did other things…” Agatha shrugs as if it is not a big deal. “And how she was burned in front of the entire city.”

“Ok. Then let me change you…” Merida replies calmly. Too calm. Still showing the fangs. “Not sure why you want to be so beautiful you would make a deal with me. A witch always keeps her promises. I promised you to make you a beautiful doll,and I shall.” Merida´s eyes are golden now.

Agatha smiles for the last time.

Agatha´s body starts to stiffen. The only body part that could move was her eyes, and even so, that was limited. Her arms shed her very own skin and are replaced by something akin to plastic. Her face loses the baby fat and looks as if a knife cut some of the meat. 

The skin gains a new color. A fake tan, the smell of brimstone is intoxicating. The scars and acne plunged from her face. Her boobs increased as if someone opened her chest and stuck balloons there. Agatha can smell blood.

Finally, her eyes gain a new shade. A blue tone that only Barbie dolls seem to have. Her body controced a few moments as she could stand still perfectly. There's no need for weak bones or any bones now. 

Her hair is shining and long exactly like a Barbie doll should have. The old outfit Agatha was using melted away- her eyes moved back and forth trying to plead, trying to cry and failing- and was replaced by a lovely night dress. Only Barbie could wear such a dress.

The size of Agatha shrinks considerably. No one likes a big doll. It’s more trendy for a small pretty doll nowadays.

Merida holds the doll and her eyes are moving again. Aside from this small detail, she could have been the missing sister of Barbie. Caressing the hair for a moment or two, Merida spotted a nice place in the main showcase.

The eyes are moving side by side. The plastic smile is forever stuck in the plastic face. A lovely figure that can´t be rival by any woman ever again.

“I made good on my word. You´re a doll...not even Barbie could face you...and Brasco can see you.” Clicking her tongue, Merida´s height grows and reaches a new type. It’s not the height that should impress. It’s her face. Scales and tentacles are visible from the shadow. “Don´t worry. This is a typical fairytale. Once you find inner beauty,you´ll be back to be the plain Agatha. Now, if you excuse me, I'm too tired.I need to sleep.I need to go to Dreamlands now.”

She lays her head down. Her tentacles emerging and crawling the rest of the body away. Time to go to Dreamlands.


	9. Chapter 9

Each form of tourism gives a new soul for its destination and a new story.

Italy, for example, is filled to the brim with stories. It’s filled to the brim with souls. Rome is a big name for several reasons. If you want to see higher art, the coliseum comes to mind, regardless of if you’re into art or not.

Italy and the Vatican offer two different tourism. The Vatican provides the chance to be closer to God, Jesus, and its religion. Those who went to the Vatican are in for a spiritual journey, forsaking their sins.

Only the Vatican can offer this art.

Even the Vatican has some “closing days,” so to speak. The Park St Peter has its announcement that no tourist shall join the Vatican today. A mini-car in the purple shade is parked in front of the gate, not bothering to pay much attention to the signal. Everything is art. Everything has a price in the Vatican.

“You think they close because of us, or was it part of the agenda all along?” A man with a moustache and a rounded shape of body asks. not taking his fingers from the wheel. He inquiries again in a more jolly tone. “I mean, let’s be real. We’re not good for business, are we, Petunia?”

The woman named Petunia has some distinct features on her person. For starters, she’s covered heads to toe with bandages, leaving only her eyes exposed. Her eyes are too alive. Too old, too wry of everything to pass among the masses. Her hair is ginger, medium, and is the only color present. Her eyes are another story entirely.

The radio is on. An Italian Pop singer is singing a love ballad. The man turns it off and watches as his two passengers are looking at the gate. Bristle and bemoaning. Eyes scanning each detail. The narrative of The Vatican never changes. 

“I suppose. I mean…” One of them breaks the silence. “We could turn around and say it is a prank and deal with the situation ourselves, but aside from giving us a bad rep with them...it’s also pointless, as we need help.” The voice belongs to the only one who truly appears to be younger.

A petite woman with pigtails, dirty blonde hair, a round face, and wearing a suit almost similar to the older woman takes a small notebook out of her pocket and analyses some of her writing. Her face is too focused on the writing. 

“Bertha is right, Victor.” The mummy woman replies, bemused. “We’re here already. Might as well go forward.” She opens the car’s door with no ceremony. “What a hot day… I’m even sweating…” Her eyes smile at the implications.

Victor is the only one to laugh at the joke. Bertha tilts her head and offers a bottle of water, mentioning the scientific facts behind a boiling day and how it can cause harm for certain types of skins.

“Petunia... why does it have to be you?” Victor asks once his laugh dies. Fingers are scratching an itch on his neck. His eyes are solemn on her figure. His other hand holds an amulet wrapped around his neck. “Look, I can go with you. I can do it. I,” he coughs, and Petunia only shakes her head. Her eyes land on his right arm, twitching unnaturally.

“Told you before, didn’t I?” Petunia clicks her tongue. Not an effective sound for someone who is practically a mummy with red hair. “It has to be me, old friend. It’s not my choice, but I’ll do it, anyway.” There’s a solemn tone. Her eyes drift to his other hand holding the amulet. “Hold on. This won’t take longer.”

Bertha now watches the interaction and blinks as the two adults are looking at her knowingly. Looking back and forth, it leaves the young woman to her own devices.

“Okay, perfect time for us to use the Aftermath’s motto!” Petunia changes the tone. Let it be more jovial and merry in her somber task. She stamps her foot and claps her hands, waiting for the so-called motto.

Victor follows along. “Oh, right! I read enough fiction works to know that an excellent motto and the power of friendship are far more powerful than the Vatican. Do we have a Motto?” The last question is laced to the brim with curiosity.

Bertha responds as if this is a final exam. “Actually, the Seer-Witch Sandra was the one to oversee.” Puns were exchanged easily, much to Bertha’s chagrin. “And vetted all the mottos suggested. So Aftermath has no motto.” 

Petunia and Victor blink in unison. When you’re a living mummy, your eyes are in the spotlight, so her emotions are often displayed by her eyes. The window of a soul. Oh, what a messy soul Petunia has.

“She’s not our boss. Can she do that?” Petunia petulantly asks. Her eyes flare up, not metaphorically, as Victor cocks one eyebrow, muttering how he was sure they had a motto.

“Technically, you 3 are each other bosses, so she can do that!” Bertha explains, patiently and comically showing the imbalance of power with her hands. If Sandra says no mottos, well, no mottos.

“Ok, then a temporary motto.” Petunia crosses her arms to speak strongly now. Victor puts a finger on his chin. Bertha watches fascinated, the spasms stop a little, allowing the man to hold something. “Okay, let’s say: Go Team We Give a Damn!”

Victor nods in approval. Bertha takes a small notebook and writes this line down. Chuckling loudly as she reads a few pages in her notebook.

“Ok, then let’s go team we give a damn.” Victor pumps his fist in the air carefully. “Bertha, make sure this one,” his eyes land on Petunia amusedly, “doesn’t start painting the Vatican red.” And he adds as a good measure, “Don’t bite anyone today, Petunia!”

Bertha gives a salute and nods sagely. Petunia scoffs and shrugs off. 

“I’ll behave if they behave… Can’t promise more than that.” They’re the sincerest words she can offer. Victor shakes his head as Bertha is unmoving.

Too unmoving as her eyes are paying attention to the gate and its inhabitants coming to greet Aftermath. “They’re here… It’s show time.”

“Yes, no one gets the Vatican by surprise, trust me!” Petunia mirthlessly jokes. Dark humor in the Holy house is a narrative not appreciated by **The Vatican.**

_________________________________________________________________________________

The Park St Peter is truly something to wonder. Each detail was meticulously constructed. The Bishop was not alone. Of course, he wouldn’t be. No one in sound mind would receive members of Aftermath alone. The logic of the Vatican is pretty easy to see. The swiss guard is easy to spot as well.

Petunia groans a bit too louder. “Bertha, please, stay by my side.” The rookie has shining eyes, metaphorically saying. The Vatican warned them about glowing eyes in their holy land. “And please, don’t let me ruin this mission, please.” Her eyes are stern as the Bishop comes closer. Her voice is weak.

Bertha nods. “ **We’re team, we give a damn!** ” She does another salute. 

Finally, the Bishop arrives to see the two women. His eyes hold questions about Petunia’s gender. A woman wrapped with bandages is still a woman? As the Swiss Guards are too near. Too close. Watching. Watching and watching.

_The order must be the same. Kill the witch if she misbehaves. Kill if you can’t control._

The Bishop looks young for such a position. His face held some youth, blue eyes are full of energy. Soul. The Vatican loves souls. His smile is stiff. “I´m Bishop Florence.” A courtly introduction. It was met equally.

His blue eyes land on Victor, who only shakes his finger as if this answers the silent question. “Anyway, it has been a while since the Aftermath ever graced us.” His voice has an unique accent. Bertha is trying to mash up with all the accents she comes across. Either he’s Italian or an American-Italian trying too hard.

“We have an important matter to discuss… and we’re not here to take our time,” Petunia says, not minding the hostility. The Swiss Guards have one job: kill if they disobey. “Do you want to talk outside, or can we come inside?” Petunia’s eyes lit up with a certain malice by the choice of those words.

The Bishop seems to notice it. He sends an order to the Swiss guards - German, he’s speaking perfect German - and they all nod. “I understand the others are waiting for you.” His eyes land on Bertha. “And on your younger assistant.”

“She’s 100 years old. She could be your fucking grandma,” Petunia states calmly. The Bishop does a double take on Bertha.

“She’s lying.” She smiles sweetly. “I’m 110 years old.” She winks to complete such a response and walks close to Petunia.

“We were expecting you a lot sooner, Nadia.” Petunia halts on her moves. She’s standing still, and the guards are too ready. Itching for an excuse.

“How do you know this name?” Petunia asks as Bertha gently tugs Petunia’s hand. Oh, the eyes are the window for the soul. Petunia’s soul is a mess.

“The archivist knows enough about our…. allies.” The tone is bleak. The lie is too tangible for Petunia. “We had some information about the Aftermath: Theo Smith, lost his family in a…. tragic way. The Seer Witch… she survives. You…. well, we know your name,” he concludes proudly.

Petunia heavens. Petunia closes her eyes and then opens. 

_Go team we give a damn._

“Fantastic, then you must know I can’t use this name anymore… As you know, the Spanish Inquisition, with the approval signal of the Vatican, decided that it must torture me to appease their God. I must bleed. I must suffer in the name of your God. Nadia died that night. I was reborn, so,” her eyes lit up. Her eyes are a window to her very soul. A mess of a soul. “Never call me Nadia again.” It’s a veiled threat. 

The Bishop stops smirking. “If you harm me…”

“If you harm me,” she mimics him. “If I was here for revenge for all that the church did, I would go insane with bloodlust. No, I’m not here for revenge. If you harm me, if you harm her, it won’t be revenge. Just retribution.” And she adds, “My powers still work here.”

The guards are shivering. They’re merely humans with weapons.

The Bishop is no longer smirking. Silence reigns supreme.

____________________________________________________________________________________

If you have to pick one word, one mere adjective, to describe the Pope’s palace, well, luxurious comes to mind. Extravaganza in all details are worth mention, especially as the committee welcoming the Aftermath is not dressed poorly.

Bishop Florence is a man in his late 30´s, or so it seems. His square head now has a ruffled white mane, disheveled and messy, too messy for the narrative of sainthood. His clothes are pristine. However, such a sneer on his lips gives a new narrative far away from sainthood.

The story that sells as hot bread is the one the Vatican weaves along the years. Nothing can break this facade.

The Bishop is in charge of Apostolic Household. The man barks some orders, “Beweg dich nicht.” The Swiss guards nod, replying, “Ja, Eure Exzellenz,” as the man marches towards the mummy woman and Bertha, who has a wide smile on her face.

“The others are expecting you.” His tone is strict. Why pleasantries if you’re not dressed for the part? “We’re still surprised the Aftermath would contact us. Last time any of you were here,” he squeezes his eyes. Time is relative for Aftermath, as time has no importance for the Vatican. “It was 100 years ago. Now, you’re here asking for help...one can´t help to wonder why.” His tone is faux polite.

The Vatican has a simple story with Aftermath. It is unchangeable.

His small eyes notce Bertha. An allegedly young woman, attractive in her own right. Young to the eyes. “We’re not expecting someone so...young.” There’s a blatant criticism, yet his eyes are looking up and down Bertha. Hungry eyes do not belong to the narrative of The Vatican.

Petunia steps in, blocking his view of Bertha. “That’s my assistant, Bertha, to assist me in a diplomatic mission to request your help.” She paused dramatically. “How many times can I use the word assistant and still make sense?” The question is directed to Bertha, who can and is ignoring the bafflement of the Vatican committee.

Bertha raises her hand to show 2 fingers. Petunia sighs in dejection, rubbing her mummy-like neck and snapping her fingers.

The Bishop is not happy to be ignored. No one ignores The Vatican. Clapping his hands hard to cause a louder noise, everyone is now looking at him. “Well, foolery aside… I suppose Miss Bertha has no last name, correct?” It is taxing, pretending, but if you’re an excellent actor, it is possible to even believe in your lies. Bertha remains still. Unmoving. 

“She has no last name. Her past is her own, as is her future, and if you forget about the talking mummy in front of you. I’m the one in charge of the mission… Please, look at me.” Her last words are poignant. Bertha remains still.

“I need to make sure,” he begins in a low tone, his eyes piercing Petunia, “that nothing will happen to the Holy Father. A witch in the Vatican is something… unique.” His words could have been better. “See, from our point of view, ladies,” oh, the last word is uttered with total doubt in mind, “Aftermath rarely comes to us for anything, and you all gather around….profanity to put it nicely.”

Petunia rolls her head. Could hear a few sounds, causing the Swiss guards to question many things about her biology. Petunia walks closer to the Bishop. Too close for his comfort. Too close for her taste.

“Okay, okay. Let’s put all the cards on the table.” There’s mirth in using such an idiom to his face. “The diplomatic stick is something I need to handle.” There’s calm in her tone. There’s disgust in his face. “I have zero interest in taking down the Pope or any person in the Vatican. If I was, I could send to you and every single member of this bloody institution all the terrors the elder Gods leave behind. I could send the offspring of Dagon, and I know for a fact, yes I do, no one in The Vatican knows how to fight back against them.” Now utter the last line in a whisper. “You’ll be their food.”

Those words sink in. The man swallows, muttering Nein repeatedly until there’s nothing else to add.

“Thankfully for you and for the Pope, I have no desire to burn this place down, even though you kind deserve it.” Bertha coughs loudly, and Petunia groans and even rolls her eyes, now trying to make amends her words. “My point is: We have a big problem on our hands, and if we do nothing… there will be nothing to save.”

Bertha studies the German Bishop now. The man is biting his fingers. His rings are too noticeable. Too rich and too heavy all in one. Bertha writes something in her notebook, never once taking her eyes, glowing and rapturous, off his form.

The man remembers his limitations. He’s just a man against one witch, against several things beyond his imagination. “To think… we would need a heathen’s help,” he mutters his words. “And to think you need us. There’s some bitter irony here.” No one can deny that last part.

“If you dare to even harm the Holy Father… it won’t have any mercy for you. We’ll kill you here and there.” The man points his finger to Petunia. His breathing is growing heavy as his eyes dance between Petunia and the Swiss guard.

For their part, the Swiss guards have their weapons in hands. One word, and there will be one less witch in this world.

Petunia’s eyes are unmoving. She’s a mummy now. How can death frighten her? How can her hands quiver if they’ve been wrapped for ages? Petunia only lifts her head again. The sun is hidden by some clouds now.

THEY can’t watch us, at least, not right now.

Petunia tilts her back. Her fingers are massaging her temple. Oh, she can feel a migraine coming now. “Technically, you can kill me…” There’s a dramatic pause, and she can FEEL the glee on the man’s presence as well as caution. “But if you do...nothing will save you from her!” Petunia points to the giggling Bertha, who is waving friendly to them. “If I’m not here anymore, well, she’ll be loose in the worst sense. If you saw any movies or comic books, you know She-Hulk. Bertha is She-Hulk, and she can and will demolish this place easily.”

The Bishop looks to see Bertha’s eyes now shimmering in a golden light. Sweat runs through his body. That light is not holy. That light is, however, well-know by them.

“You dare to bring a demon here?!” The Bishop exclaimed, perplexed. His fingers have rings, too noticeable, too wealthy, and are pointing accusingly at said demon, who is wearing a suit that appears to be cheap. It’s too ironic, so much Bertha ends up crackling.

“Well, yes!” Petunia speaks nonchalantly. Bertha expresses a smile on her face. Still an attractive woman. Now, even more dangerous. “I mean, demons are greater for taking notes. I can’t even begin how many times she saved my life because she wrote important and even useless information.” There’s a fondness in her words.

The Swiss guards are whispering about the situation. Should they risk it? No one killed a demon before, why would they be any different?

“Oh, I found it curious that demons like to write so much. They like to hoard information. The same way, you like to hoard information and power. It’s a lovely cycle,” Petunia states gives her thumbs up.

The man frowns at this last line. “How dare you to insult a member of the Vatican?” His words have bravado. His feet, sadly, are coward’s, as the man is taking a step back. And another, and another.

Bertha opens her notebook and searches for something. Once apparently found, she nods in agreement and speaks in her defense. “I mean, it wasn’t me, a common and lower demon, who protected pedophiles priests and priests laundering money.” She stays still, eyes on the Bishop. Glowing, gold, and unnerving.

The Bishop fumes. Never forget his mission. Always ignore anything bad about the Vatican. What did demons and witches know?

“Your God, if he existed, wouldn’t come up to save you from us... if we´re here to destroy you,” Bertha begins, closing her notebook.

“Because if your God was real, he or she would be disgusted by what the Vatican did in his or her name,” Petunia completes for Bertha. “The only Gods who like the Spanish Inquisition are the Outer Gods, and they laugh at everyone’s pain and misery and promise nothing to you.”

The Bishop clenches his fists. Then he lets it go. Even if he kills this witch, what’s the point? He wouldn’t live to get the glory. “Follow me.” And the man adds, vexing. “Try to smile, if possible.” A small jab if Petunia can see one. It’s all she can do. Look, look and look. Oh, what a messy soul Petunia has now.

Petunia tilts her head for a second time. “If you insist.” It is ominous enough. However, the mummy woman slowly unwraps herself, revealing her face, or at least a part of her face, to the others. Everyone but Bertha takes a step back in horror.

Eyes wide, hands shaking over whatever they’re holding, and their eyes are stuck staring at what is an impossible feature right before them.

“You know, technically, I don’t have a mouth, but I can still talk… Oh, don’t ask me to smile… It will be difficult to do so.” She proves that, much to their horror. More screams muffled by hands covered in expensive rings “We’re here to speak about the Antichrist, not the past… so, let’s see the Pope now.”

Bertha sees one of the guard’s aim for the gun, his entire being shaking. “Human, don’t shoot. If you do, I must strike…” Her tone is a sing-song, as if it is a joke for her. “We don’t have any spell to clean blood... yet.”

The face is wrapped again. Carefully. Silence reigns supreme.

“And if we have time, we discuss the art of gaslighting. I mean, we could learn a lot from you guys,” Bertha adds, cheerfully walking next to Petunia, who has her face hidden again.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Do not use the name of the Lord in vain. Do not call a palace unless it’s a veritable palace. The Apolistic Palace makes justice to the name. Luxury is present in each step, each detail. Petunia’s eyes scan the around.

There are some paintings that must cost a fortune, at least, hanging up above the Holy Father and his Bishops and Archbishops. One archbishop has a watch - the man is not being discreet in his motions - folded in gold, if not genuine gold, then it gives a wonderful impression.

Is there any passage in the Bible that says: Thou shall have expensive watches?

The Narrative is calculated to frame the Church as the holy land. It never frames its own mistakes; no one mentions the Spanish Inquisition. If they do and seldom they do, there’s a perfect excuse to pardon their mistakes: “It was a long time ago.”

“It was a long time ago” doesn’t fly well when one of its victims is staring at you so blatantly, so pointedly. “Hello, Holy Father. And friends.” She gestures to the other men sitting next to the Pope. A perfect replica of the last meal. Except no one will die here. Not today.

The room, the table, is all mimicking the last meal. However, your eyes always must travel to the Pope. The Holy Father. The man is interpreting the role of sacred man, not divinity. His advisors have roles to interpret as well. 

“Aftermath!” The Holy Pope is speaking English, perfect and well-versed as The Pope must. A perfect narrative can fool anyone. “It has been too long since we have had the pleasure to see you. Last time was 100 years ago.” There’s no bite in this line.

Petunia only looks at Bertha. The woman - or demoness, as some already point out - is reading her notes obsessively. Like always. It’s almost comforting to see her back crunched as she’s reading whatever is on the paper, showing no emotion.

“Demon!” one of them calls out for her attention. Bertha is a demon. Bertha is also a very attractive woman, at least, if compared to a mummy. “Pay attention. The Holy Father is speaking.”

Bertha waves him off. Back to her reading. Her eyes - no longer shimmering - are hooked on each word, scanning, reading, and absorbing knowledge. This was never part of the narrative of the Vatican, nor will it be.

There’s never a commotion, as The Holy Father speaks again. “I received your request. I’m intrigued. How can the Vatican offer any help to Aftermath? Last time, and I admit with a heavy heart, the Vatican and Aftermath didn’t play nice with each other. How and why are you asking our help again?” There’s no malice. The Pope is curious. Everyone is.

The Holy Father adds. “The First and last time you asked for help involved….” the man stops for a moment, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath. The man continues, certainly. “Chtulu was about to wake up. So far, the creature is still slumbering. So, what could drag you and your... companion to The Vatican?” The Pope asks solemnly.

Petunia clenches her fists and slowly lets them go. “The Antichrist shall rise again, Your Holiness. He is born already. Now, all it lacks is the last wake up where his powers will reach the level of a God. No, the level of an Outer God.” 

Murmurings are heard. Now, shouts are taking over. “Impossible!” “Every year the Aftermath keeps chasing the Antichrist.” “Where is the proof this time?”

“Shut up!” Petunia shouts too. Bertha is giving a pointed look at her. “Just shut up. You think I would come here if we, Aftermath, weren’t certain that HE is real. Why would I, one of your victims, dare to step a foot in here?” Her eyes narrow. A window for her soul, so messy and unique.

“Proof?” One of them asks condescendingly. “I prefer the other one. He was more polite and was funny. Where is he?”

“He’s dying, asshole. Why you think I´m here?” Petunia has only her eyes to show emotion. Her mummy like fingers don’t cause the right affect if pointing to Bishops and Archbishops. More murmurings. More distress, and Petunia can only narrow her eyes. Her soul is too unique.

“What’s the proof? We keep asking. You really think we would take what you say at face value?” they jeer at her. A story that is well known to Petunia. She was there for the first time.

The Holy Father raises his hand. Silences rules again. “Let’s hear what Aftermath has to say.”

“But… they brought a demon.” The person is quick to point to Bertha, who at this point stops writing. “Holy Father, Aftermath is not to be trusted. It associates them with Old Gods, demons, and witches…”

With a quivering hand and slow pace, Petunia unwraps her face. “Let me tell you something. The Aftermath took one mission after another in the hopes to preserve human life. Why?” Some recoil as they see her face. “Because I know there’s something above humans that exceeds our nightmares, ”

She notices some flinching as she gets closer. “Aftermath helped those who needed it. We didn’t have a plan, only a desire to save every witch, jew, Romani, gays, or even… everyone that may need a second chance.” Her eyes land on Bertha, who is focusing on her shoes. “We know. We always knew. The Antichrist is one of the biggest threats among human cruelty.” She sighs and closes the bandages.

No one rebuts her claims. Not have anything to add.

“The Antichrist is real. He lives in Canada, of all places. And we need help.” Petunia looks only at the Pope, too consumed in his thoughts to add anything. “I know The Vatican has information about anything and everyone. I know you have knowledge of what the Antichrist can do. So for once, do good for humanity, instead of just creating a nice and faux narrative.” And she adds, “Because I don’t give a damn about anything here. I just give a damn about saving lives. I still care.”

“Yog-Sothoth is the key. Yog-Sothoth is the door.” Those words came from Bertha, an attractive woman whose eyes are now shimmering gold. Every Bishop and Archbishop can’t deny such a line.

“I see. Then... we shall help you,” The Holy Father speaks. “Frankly, I always knew this day would come. Yet, I thought we could delay it… Oh God, in my junior years, I learned about the elder gods, old gods, and Outer Gods. I thought it was paganism.” His fingers tap on the table, playing with the pencil as his eyes are crestfallen. “It was all true.”

“Pretty much... and most of the Outer Gods are assholes,” Petunia says matter-of-factly.

Bertha interjects, “And most are sadistic to the extreme. I can tell.” Her cheerful smile doesn’t bode well with her last words.

“There’s an old saying that goes like this. The biggest trick the devil plays on humanity is making them believe he is not real. In that case, the biggest trick the Church ever pulls off is to make people know nothing about the Outer Gods and their… existence.”

“Bravo!” Petunia claps hands. “Part of the credit goes to us too. So bravo to us.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

Talk about Antichrist’s powers.

The Pope sighs. The man pinches his nose as he looks up - the ceiling of this particular room is elegant and truly expensive, but what’s the point in the long run? - then gesture his hand to Petunia to come forward. No smile on his part could mean business. However, Petunia has some reservations.

Bertha is no longer reading. Bertha only nods sagely as Petunia’s eyes narrow slightly. Then, Petunia moves forward.

“I studied many things in my youth. I saw many things throughout my years. Things that I wished I hadn’t seen.” The man holds his small glasses, fidgeting with its old structure. “I know about the Outer Gods. How could I not? When the Church serves as safe-keeper for one of Necromicon…”

Petunia gasps. “Oh MY GOD.” She points her fingers at him. Some eyes glare at her in displeasure, censoring her completely. “How dare you keep such a book? The Church thought it could control its raw power?”

The Pope shakes his head. “No, the church is too terrified of that book to do anything.” A staggering silence. Petunia’s fingers open and close.

“So, the Church tried to control something impossible to control and now pays the price for its mistake?” Petunia asked ruefully. The Bishops and Archbishops murmur as their bodies now sit uncomfortably in their extremely expensive chairs. The Pope needs to speak.

“It was throughout the crusades. One crusader found this so-called prophet.” The Pope exhales gravely. “His name was lost for time or maybe… or maybe it was lost to the Outer Gods. His eyes were opaque. The crusader wrote about this meeting and everything leading to his encounter until… his demise.” The Pope looks pale and swallows hard.

“They brought the Prophet to the Vatican… I’ll not lie. People were thinking of killing him. The man was making bold assumptions and claims about God that the Church didn’t like,” the Pope states unnervingly. “However, as soon as anyone dared to look at the man’s book… they were plagued with the worst diseases: madness.”

Petunia doesn’t add any quips.

“Many Papal wars were fueled by greed and, of course, by that little book, even if it was incomplete.” The Pope sighs. “All his visions were true. One day, the man spoke about the Antichrist.” There’s an eerie understanding in his line that reaches each man’s face.

“Let me guess. God is myth, and only THEY shall rise?” Petunia sums up rudely.

“More or less like that. The book, however, was complete. You must see… That book, that prophet, was the living proof that God, our God, is nothing…” Petunia closes her eyes. “We tried to kill the prophet many times. The prophet ended up being… devoured by fire and shadows before our eyes and that… mark never left The Vatican.”

“As all the atrocities made in your religion were never forgotten.”

The Pope ignores that line. He must. The Vatican has a very simple narrative to follow. “The book… has grotesque images. The book has so much information. Each Pope saw the real origins of life and death… and each Pope must remain tight-lipped.” The man massages his temple. Taking his Cappello Romano, the man shows a nasty long scar.

“Each Pope has to pay a price to see the book, no matter if he is willing or not. I’ll say this name once and only once.” There’s a promise veiled with fear. “Nyarlotep is the sadistic Outer God. Guardian of Dreamlands, and the one who loves to taunt humanity about their upcoming doom…”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole,” Petunia agrees. Bertha stops writing obsessively in her notebook.

“The king in Yellow was present at the burning of the Witch Faya. The King in Yellow is Nyarlotep… Its chaos still lingers.” Bertha stops to check on her notebook. “It checks. He’s an asshole”

Petunia nods as her eyes glow again. “Ok, so tell me about the antichrist. What can he do?”

The Pope replies instantly. “In a few words? Everything. Yog-Sothoth trial and error would lead to the perfect being. Someone who can control reality. Life, death and all in between. All demons on earth and other dimensions would bow to him. No more church.” Now, the others murmur louder.

**_Can you stop the beast?_ **

**_Are we doomed?_ **

Petunia only repeats, “Go team we give a damn.”

No one sans Bertha found that funny.

“Everyone has a weakness…” Petunia trails off.

“Only one, his heart… One shot is enough to kill him for good.”

Petunia blinks several times. “Wait, so… is he a vampire?”

Bertha chuckles louder. “Nope, but the other vampires are safely protected.”

A conversation that never took place, as far as people will know, is finally deemed over.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The walk back to the minicar was silent. As, because at the moment Bertha sees Victor waving his arms, a gesture that makes Petunia pause in her tracks, Bertha jumps at the opportunity to see the arm.

Victor’s arm is not interesting by any means. It doesn’t even have a cool tattoo. However, it has the annoying habit of falling out.

Bertha is holding Victor’s arm - the latter is not minding, as it still attaches his other arm to his body - and is waving at the Swiss guards, whose reactions are a mix of fear and disgust. One of them has a weapon pointed at Bertha.

She laughs too loud. Petunia covers her ears. The laughter is so loud; it breaks the level of normality for a human.

The Swiss guards lose courage or maybe get common sense and run away from the demon, the literal demon.

Petunia taps Bertha’s shoulder. The laughter stops, and Bertha looks down, pouting.

“Your arm is falling. How long can your body hold up?” Petunia asked, crouching to his level. The man is sitting in the car, now holding his arm carefully. “Victor, don’t lie to me.”

“Well, I did the math,” he explains, looking at his amulet. Said amulet is glowing weakly. “A week, if the Gods are merciful.” His big smile only makes the mummy frown.

“Then we have less than a week. Fantastic. Bertha!” she calls for the young demoness. A small salute is made. New orders are given. “What’s the closest morgue we can find?”

Bertha is looking at her notebook, her eyes scanning each word fiercely. “There’s one in Rome. The man is crooked enough to let someone keep the Jane Does and John Does´s bodies if we pay the price right…” she trails off, counting with her fingers. “We don’t have that much money, and we can’t raise too much suspicion. The Vatican is a testy ally.”

Petunia sighs and lowers her head. “Then... we’ll have to make do with what we have.” She lifts her head and takes the bandages off. Her face has perfect skin, and her ginger hair is bouncy enough to get anyone’s attention.

“Victor, do you want to be Victor or Victoria?”

“I do not know. Hum… I guess it would be nice to be a woman again.”

“Then, let’s get you a new body.”

Bertha is on the backseat, waving goodbye to the Vatican as a child would to an old friend. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work follow me on twitter:
> 
> https://mobile.twitter.com/Lizandr92493223


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